


Hospital 365: Season 2

by JungMichan, Minew



Series: Hangang University Hospital [2]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Homophobia, M/M, Male Friendship, Medical Procedures, Medical Professionals, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Romance, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungMichan/pseuds/JungMichan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minew/pseuds/Minew
Summary: An eventful year has passed for our nine favourite specialists at Hangang University Hospital. What will their second year bring them?
Series: Hangang University Hospital [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161380
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	1. September 5th

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Hospital 365](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965879/chapters/68493668) \- this story will make more sense if you read that first!
> 
> This fic is being cross-posted on AFF. 
> 
> **WARNINGS**
> 
> Please be aware that this is a realistic story set in a hospital and some of the medical scenes include graphic descriptions of medical procedures, surgery, major illnesses and injuries, blood, bodily fluids and functions, patient death, etc. This story also contains and references potentially triggering themes such as abuse, domestic violence, homophobia, eating issues, anxiety, panic attacks, self-harm, and attempted suicide.
> 
> **MEET THE DOCTORS**
> 
>   * Kim Minseok: Emergency physician, section chief
>   * Zhang Yixing: Oncologist, attending
>   * Kim Joonmyun: Cardiothoracic surgeon, fellow
>   * Byun Baekhyun: Plastic surgeon, fellow
>   * Park Chanyeol: Paediatrician, attending
>   * Kim Jongdae: Obstetric surgeon and gynaecologist, attending
>   * Do Kyungsoo: Radiologist, attending
>   * Kim Jongin: Orthopaedic surgeon, fellow
>   * Oh Sehun: Dermatologist, attending
> 

> 
> We hope you enjoy the story!! 
> 
> ~ Co-authors Minji and Michan ~

Baekhyun sits cross-legged on the rug in the living room, head bent over his textbook on the coffee table, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. There are several other general and advanced medical textbooks left open at useful places, and papers and notes are piled up not only on the table, but also stacked in hopefully-relevant piles on the floor around him. Some of them are notes he’d taken back in university, neatly written with coloured highlighting making it easier to find important information. The older notes are a far cry from the more recent ones, dashed off much more haphazardly and without ruling lines or using highlighters or cute sticky notes. It’s been years since he had to prepare for an examination, and Baekhyun is finding that he seems to have fallen out of the habit of effective study, and it’s strangely hard to claw his way back.

He groans a little, elbows propped on the table and fingers running through his hair for the umpteenth time. It’s probably sticking straight up on end from all the clutching of it he’s been doing. His knees bounce restlessly as he reads and re-reads a line of anatomy and tries to connect the difficult words to what they actually mean. He knows all this stuff in practice, but somehow the theory is making his head feel like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool. He doesn’t remember it being this hard to memorize terminology when he’d been in university. He’s always prided himself on his excellent memory and being quick on the uptake. Why can’t he seem to focus properly?

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun flinches as someone puts a hand on his shoulder, his arm jerking and knocking a pile of papers to the floor. “Geez, Chanyeol, don’t creep up on me like that,” he says, shoving his glasses up his nose to stare reproachfully up at Chanyeol, one hand pressed to his thumping heart.

“I didn’t creep up on you,” Chanyeol protests. “I called your name twice already. That’s some serious focus you’ve got going on there.”

Baekhyun chews his lip, tapping his fingers against the table rapidly. He was trying to focus, but nothing was going in.

“I really didn’t hear you,” he says. “What is it?”

Chanyeol sits down beside him, puts his hand on the nape of Baekhyun’s neck and starts massaging one-handed. Baekhyun groans, melting into the motion. “God, that feels good.”

“You’re so tense,” Chanyeol says. Baekhyun just closes his eyes and lets Chanyeol work the stress out of his neck. “I just wanted to check you were doing okay. You looked really anxious before.”

“Did I?” Baekhyun mumbles. “I didn’t mean to. Studying is just horrible. I can’t seem to get my head in the game.” He opens his eyes and finds Chanyeol looking at him. “I swear it used to be easier to remember stuff than this. Am I getting old?” he jokes, but there’s real anxiety behind his words, and he knows Chanyeol sees it by the way his forehead furrows.

“You’ve been working flat-out since I left at 7 this morning, and it’s past 5.30 now,” Chanyeol points out. “The brain can only absorb so much at once, you know. Have you been taking breaks?”

Baekhyun didn’t realise it had been that long. He doesn’t feel like he’s accomplished anything at all.

“I need to make up for lost time,” he says, avoiding the subject of breaks, because he’s not supposed to get so stressed that even the thought of eating makes him nauseous any more. Chanyeol would only worry if he knew Baekhyun hadn’t been able to face eating today. “You know how much time I lost this year. I have to study like mad for the next few months if I’m going to pass my fellowship examination in October.” He turns back to his textbook on the table, but Chanyeol puts a large hand over Baekhyun’s delicate one, stilling his fingers in their frantic drumming against the table.

“All the same, I think you should stop for now,” Chanyeol says. “You’ve done a full day of study today, and you seem really wound up.”

Baekhyun grimaces, but he knows Chanyeol is right. He isn’t getting anywhere like this. He flops backwards until his back hits the couch behind them, slouching down. “It’s stressful,” he admits. “I know I can do the clinical stuff, but a hundred multiple-choice theory questions is no joke, and a lot of it is stuff that I never use in practice. You were stressed when you were studying for yours, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Chanyeol says. “I’m so glad I stayed in general paediatrics and didn’t specialize further. Exams are the worst. But you’re usually good with exams, aren’t you?”

“I used to be,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my brain these days. I can’t seem to concentrate like I used to.”

Chanyeol kneels up and starts gathering the papers Baekhyun had knocked onto the floor, shuffling them together and stacking them on the coffee table. “You could use the computer desk,” he says. “Yeonseok will move his crap if you ask him.”

“No, it’s okay,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t mind working here. It reminds me of uni, when our beds were nothing but lonely islands in a sea of revision. I swear I didn’t even know what colour our carpet was.”

Chanyeol laughs, putting the papers he’s gathered on the table. Baekhyun sees him go still for a moment as he looks at the top paper, then picks it up. Baekhyun sits up to look at it too. His stomach does a strange flip-flop when he sees what Chanyeol is holding.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he says, reaching for the paper, but Chanyeol moves it further from his reach, fending him off with one hand.

“Baekhyun, this is not nothing,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun wants to facepalm for leaving the stupid form out among all his revision and crap. Just the form in itself wouldn’t be so bad, but Baekhyun remembers scribbling angrily on it, after he’d stared, pen in hand, for about ten minutes at the boxes and been unable to bring himself to fill them in. He can’t remember exactly what he wrote, but it wasn’t something he’d intended Chanyeol - or anyone - seeing.

“It is nothing,” Baekhyun insists. He reaches again for the form, and this time Chanyeol lets him take it. “Chief Seo gave it to me because she thinks I qualify, but I’m not going to apply for it, so it doesn’t matter.”

He glances down at the form in his hand. It has the logo of the Korean Society of Medical Education in the top left corner, and the title glares out at him from the top of the page, black-on-white characters bold and brutal as a punch to the gut. APPLICATION FOR REASONABLE ADJUSTMENT FOR DISABILITY.

He crumples it up in his fist so that he doesn’t have to see it anymore, nor the words he’s scrawled beneath it, pressing so hard he’d almost torn the paper; I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol looks hesitant, like he tends to get when talking about Baekhyun’s mental health. Baekhyun wishes he didn’t, because when have they ever had problems communicating or being open between them? They’ve always been so close. But he knows it’s his own fault that Chanyeol feels like he has to tread carefully. He’s reacted over-sensitively before, and considering how he’s feeling right now, he’s probably at risk of doing so again. He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a shaky sigh.

“Just say it,” he says softly. He feels his shoulders hunch as he curls a little on himself, instinctively, uselessly trying to protect himself. But how can he protect himself when it’s all coming from inside him? “I’m fucking mental enough to qualify for a disability adjustment, and you think I should take it, don’t you.”

“Baek, don’t be cruel to yourself,” Chanyeol says gently. “This would mean the examination board will take your illness into consideration. That would be good, don’t you think? You wouldn’t have to worry so much about making up for the time you lost.”

“I hate it,” Baekhyun says bitterly. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be seen as disabled, Chanyeol. I don’t want people thinking I’m ill. I’m not. Not anymore.”

He’s so curled up on himself that he senses, more than sees, Chanyeol shuffle closer to wrap his long arms around him. He relaxes into the hold, sighing a little as the worst of the stress and tension begins to leave him at the physical contact. Chanyeol knows so well what Baekhyun needs. It’s all he can do not to cling to his best friend like a small child.

“I know that, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says. “You’ve done so amazingly well to get to where you are, but you are still on medication, so...”

Baekhyun knows that too. He has been starting to truly resent the antidepressants lately. He almost has to choke them down, the way he had when he’d first been taking them, so much does he despise having to swallow the pills. He hasn’t told anyone this, because he isn’t stupid and he knows he needs to continue taking them until his psychiatrist, who knows better than Baekhyun what he needs in this regard, thinks it’s safe to begin tapering him down. But he hates the thought that his metal stability relies on drugs. He was stable before Nari broke up with him. Why can’t people see that he can be stable again?

“If it would make the stress of studying for this exam easier, I think Dr. Seo has a good point in suggesting it,” Chanyeol continues.

“It would be on my record, though,” Baekhyun says unhappily. “Any advanced fellowship program I applied for would see that I had an adjustment for disability. You know how competitive plastic surgery fellowships are. Nobody is going to pick me for their programme over a person with a clean bill of health.”

He feels Chanyeol sigh against him. He knows Chanyeol can’t refute it, because it’s true. Baekhyun would have his qualification, he’d have passed his general plastic surgery fellowship and be able to work as an attending surgeon, but he’d be competing with the best of the best for further education, and even the tiniest difference in grades makes a difference. Someone with a history of mental illness like his, someone who is still currently on antidepressants, would surely be far less desirable than any other candidate.

“Are you thinking of doing an advanced fellowship, then?” Chanyeol asks. “Burns?”

Baekhyun nods. “Either reconstructive burn surgery, or cosmetic surgery,” he says. “There’s a year-long course for both starting in February next year.”

“Cosmetic surgery?” Chanyeol asks, sounding surprised. “You’ve always been interested in burns, though, and you’ve done amazing work in that field already. Where did cosmetics come from, all of a sudden?”

Baekhyun smiles, some of his distress fading as he thinks of the reason behind his new interest in cosmetic surgery. “Lu Han’s been telling me a lot about it,” he says. “It would be fun to work in the same specialty.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol says, and then is oddly silent for so long that Baekhyun eventually sits up out of the hug to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol says. “About the disability adjustment - why don’t you think about it a little more before deciding? There’s always the option of deferring your exam, too. You could take it next year.”

“No,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to defer it. You and Jongdae both passed yours ages ago, I’m already way behind you guys.”

“Hey, what? Come on,” Chanyeol says. “You can’t compare it like that. Our fellowship programmes were only three years long, yours is six years. It doesn’t make sense to say you’re behind. That’s just the nature of your specialty.”

“You’re both still attendings, though, that’s the outcome no matter what the facts behind it are,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t want to let my stupid illness dictate my life. I want to make the next step in my career, and I can do it without disability adjustments or deferrals.”

“I know you can,” Chanyeol says. “But you still have to take care of yourself. Studying all day until you’re so anxious you can’t even sit still isn’t doing you any favours.”

“I know,” Baekhyun sighs. Chanyeol is right, as usual. “I’ll try. I just wish my stupid brain would get on board.”

He glances at the time and sees that it’s nearly six, and feels himself brighten up as he remembers tonight’s plans. He unfolds his limbs and starts crawling around to pick up all the papers from the carpet. “I have to stop now anyway and get ready for my date,” he says, the happiness bubbling over into his voice as the thought of Lu Han chases away the worry and stress.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” Chanyeol asks, stretching his long legs out under the coffee table.

“That date idea you suggested the other day,” Baekhyun says, stacking up his books so that there’s some free space on the coffee table. “N Seoul Tower. I can’t believe you lovebirds actually put a lock on the fence there, so cliche,” he teases, dodging when Chanyeol takes a good-natured swipe at him.

“Cliches exist for a reason,” Chanyeol tells him, grinning. “Find me a romantic heart that doesn’t flutter at the idea of the locks on the fence at Seoul Tower. You’ll get to see the city lights too since you’re going late, that’s going to be awesome.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Baekhyun says happily. He and Lu Han have been alternating coming up with surprise date nights for each other each week. It’s fun not knowing where they’re going to end up, and Baekhyun loves planning the dates too, and Chanyeol is more than willing to provide ideas from what he and Yeonseok have done over the years. When everything is off the floor and vaguely neat, Chanyeol goes into the kitchen to start dinner for himself, as Yeonseok is on shift tonight, and Baekhyun goes into his room to shower and get ready.

An hour later, he scrambles into Lu Han’s car and leans across the gearbox for Lu Han’s kiss, unable to stop smiling as his boyfriend gives it to him without hesitation.

“I missed you,” he says.

“It’s only been a couple of days, puppy,” Lu Han teases, tapping his nose.

“I still missed you,” Baekhyun says. “Did you miss me?”

“I kept thinking about your pretty eyes while I was doing a double eyelid surgery today,” Lu Han tells him. “My client might end up looking like you.”

Baekhyun grins. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“It might be, when I want to kiss you every time I see them,” Lu Han says. “What if I start kissing my clients and get into trouble? You better take responsibility.”

“Maybe I’ll have to come work at your practice, keep you under control,” Baekhyun says. “I told you I’m taking my fellowship exam in October, right? Maybe I’ll specialize in cosmetic surgery and inflict myself upon your workday.”

Lu Han laughs. “You’re way too obsessed with burn reconstruction to get fulfilment from nose jobs, you won’t get anywhere near a private clinic,” he says, and Baekhyun feels a tiny quiver of self-doubt inside him. Chanyeol had basically said the same thing. Baekhyun himself would have said the same thing this time last year. Even a few months ago. He suddenly thinks of little Kang Minseo and her successful scalp graft, and how happy and confident she’d become after Baekhyun’s surgery had given her a full head of hair. He wants to help more people like her. But if he did cosmetic surgery, maybe he really would be able to work with Lu Han someday, see him all the time instead of just date nights, and they could discuss procedures and research, and go to conventions together...

“Anyway, tell me where I am driving, or we’ll be outside your apartment all evening,” Lu Han continues, and Baekhyun puts aside his uncertainty. Tonight is for having fun and being with the person who makes him happiest in the world.

Baekhyun gives Lu Han directions. They’re getting close to the small mountain of Namsan north of the river, topped by the tall tower, when Lu Han figures out where they’re going.

“Seoul Tower? Wait, the famous padlock fence?” he asks, laughing. “A romantic at heart, I see, Byun Baekhyun.”

“Chanyeol and Yeonseok have a lock there,” Baekhyun says. “He sent me a picture and bet me a week of doing the dishes that I couldn’t find it, so it’s our mission tonight to find it. Dishwashing makes my eczema hate me.”

“I haven’t been up there before, only seen photos,” Lu Han says. “How many locks are there?”

“About a million,” Baekhyun says glibly. His and Nari’s lock is up there somewhere, too. He shoves the thought away brutally. Lu Han’s eyes grow round.

“If we can’t find it, let’s just buy a lock the same and copy what they wrote on it from the picture Chanyeol gave you,” he says. Baekhyun turns to him, mouth dropping open.

“You are some kind of evil genius, huh,” he says, making Lu Han peal with laughter.

He directs Lu Han to the parking lot beneath the mountain and they get out. Mt. Namsan rises above them, clad in green forest, the pylons of the cable car marching their way up the steep slope with square enclosed cars bringing people up and down. Baekhyun takes Lu Han’s hand and starts pulling him over to the entrance to the cable car.

“We’re lucky, it looks like there’s not too many people here tonight,” he says. “The cars won’t be too crowded.”

“Good,” Lu Han says, but his voice sounds a little off to Baekhyun, lacking the confidence that Lu Han always carries himself with. Baekhyun turns to look at him, and sees that Lu Han’s eyes are fixed on the cables swooping up the steep mountainside, and his face is strangely pale.

Baekhyun stops dead in his tracks, horror seizing him as he understands what’s going on.

“I’m an idiot,” he says. “Lu Han, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Lu Han says, but his voice sounds distant, and he keeps on staring up at the cable car without looking at Baekhyun. He’s pale-skinned naturally, but right now he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“I am. I didn’t even think. It’s just such a part of visiting Seoul Tower that the heights thing never even occurred to me,” Baekhyun says. “I’m so sorry. I know how horrible phobias are, I should have thought -”

“Baekhyun, it’s okay,” Lu Han says, finally dragging his eyes from the cable car to send Baekhyun a smile. It’s shaky at the edges, and Baekhyun’s heart clenches. “I can handle it.”

“No, you don’t have to handle it,” Baekhyun says. “I’m not making you do something that scares you. We don’t have to anyway. There are hiking trails up the mountain too, through the trees. It’ll take longer to get up there, but exercise is good for you! It’s better this way!”

Lu Han looks so relieved that Baekhyun can’t help flinging his arms around him in a quick hug, uncaring that there are people around. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lu Han asks. “I feel stupid, but -”

“Of course not!” Baekhyun says. “I haven’t climbed a mountain since a horrible high school camp I was forced to go on, but Namsan isn’t a very big mountain. How hard can it be, right?”

Lu Han grins at him. “Let’s find out,” he says.

They wander around for a while until they find a small trail leading through the trees, marked as a route to the top, and start their way up it.

Half an hour later, Baekhyun is regretting everything.

“I take it back,” he wheezes. “This is hard. How is climbing a mountain so hard? I think I’m going to cough my heart up.”

Lu Han turns around to grin at him, teeth flashing in the growing dusk below the trees. He’s not even breathing heavily, Baekhyun thinks reproachfully as he uses the break to bend over and catch his breath, hands on knees.

“You’re very talkative for someone who’s finding it hard,” Lu Han teases. “Save your breath for climbing, not whining.”

“Who designed this path? Aren’t they supposed to zig-zag to make it easier? It’s going straight up!” Baekhyun complains. His legs hurt. His lungs hurt. Everything hurts. “It said an hour, right? I can’t believe we’re only half-way.”

“I can’t believe it’s going to take us an hour to get up there,” Lu Han laughs. “An hour is like, grandma pace.”

“Are you calling me a grandma?” Baekhyun asks, straightening up to pout. “I take offense at that!”

“You should exercise more,” Lu Han teases him, dodging aside when Baekhyun tries to swat him. “Come on, we better keep going. There are no lights on this trail and the sun is setting.”

Baekhyun swallows, the good-natured banter suddenly receding as he realises Lu Han is right. It’s getting pretty dark now under the trees. Lu Han has become nothing but a shadowy figure in the gloom as he turns to keep walking up the trail.

“Wait,” he calls, and he hears the faint edge of panic in his voice, but is unable to hide it. He runs the couple of steps to catch up with Lu Han and grabs the back of his shirt. “Wait up. It’s getting dark. Let’s not get separated.”

Lu Han turns around again. Baekhyun can just make out the expression of dismay on his face in the gloom.

“Fuck,” Lu Han says, staring at him. Baekhyun stares back. The hilarity of the situation suddenly strikes him, and he starts to giggle.

“I can’t believe this,” he says. “We avoided your phobia only to get hit with mine.”

Lu Han starts to laugh too. “We’re such idiots,” he says. “Come on, let’s hurry and get up there before we lose all the light.” He takes Baekhyun’s hand and starts to stride up the trail again.

“I’m not scared,” Baekhyun says, clinging to Lu Han’s hand. “I won’t freak out like last time. It was the suddenness of the power cut that triggered me. I know this is just normal dark.” But it’s getting so dark, and no matter how hard Baekhyun strains his eyes, he can barely see a thing, only the shadowy shapes of the trees around them. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he doesn’t think it’s just from the exercise any more. The darkness feels thick and cloying, and even though he knows it’s not an episode, he knows there are no voices and no terrible creatures swimming around him in the dark, the whole thing just makes him...

“You’re going to crush my hand,” Lu Han says dryly. “I need to keep that in full working order, please.”

“Oops,” Baekhyun says, forcing himself to loosen his grip. “Okay, so maybe I am a tiny bit scared. What if we lose the trail?”

“Phone torches,” Lu Han suggests, and they both dig their phones out. The phone torches aren’t really designed to light up this kind of darkness, they’re too diffuse, but at least they can see the edges of the trail in the combined beams. The problem is, having the torch lights on makes the darkness around them go really black in comparison. Baekhyun’s breath hitches.

“Come on, hurry up,” he says, tugging at Lu Han’s hand. He’s walking so fast now he’s nearly running, and it’s Lu Han who is starting to pant as he struggles to keep up with Baekhyun’s pace. Adrenaline is taking over, giving him strength and a second wind he didn’t know he possessed. All he can think about is getting to the top of this stupid trail and finding some light again.

Thanks to Baekhyun’s sudden burst of fear-driven energy, they reach the top of the trail in about half the time it took them to do the first half. Baekhyun gives a cry of relief as he sees floodlights shining on the old city wall which runs beside the road. Between the trees the tower appears, still a little higher than them up the road, glowing green and gigantic compared to how it appeared at the bottom. “We made it!” he cries, dropping Lu Han’s hand and sprinting the last few metres towards the nearest floodlight. He stands right in its beam, the light bouncing off his skin and hair as he spins around to watch Lu Han jog up to him. “We survived!”

“Holy shit, Baekhyun,” Lu Han pants. “What was all that whining about being unfit before? You practically ran the last half.”

“I think I was in fight or flight mode,” Baekhyun admits. “My legs are probably going to kill me tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lu Han asks as they walk the last few metres up the road towards the bustling, well-lit plaza. “I really didn’t expect night to fall so quickly.”

“I’m okay,” Baekhyun assures him. “It goes away once I’m in the light. But I feel like being in the brightest possible place for the rest of the evening.”

“We’ll make that our criteria for where to eat dinner,” Lu Han says, laughing a little. “The brightest-lit restaurant, the furthest from any window that’s going to show me how fucking high up in that tower we’re going to be.”

“This was a terrible idea for a date,” Baekhyun says as they pay their entrance fees. “I still can’t believe I brought a person with acrophobia here.”

“I can’t believe I made a person with a fear of the dark walk up a forest trail at dusk,” Lu Han laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s an experience! We’re laughing about it, so no harm done.”

“You’re okay with elevators and stuff, right?” Baekhyun asks. “Most of the eating places are up in the top of the tower and you have to take the elevator up, but there are a few cafes on the plaza down here, and there’s an arcade in the plaza building. We don’t have to go up. We can just find Chanyeol and Yeonseok’s lock and play down here.”

“No, let’s go up,” Lu Han says. “I’ve never had a reason to go up the tower, but I want to do it. It’ll be fine as long as I don’t go near the windows.”

“You know what,” Baekhyun says as they begin their lock-hunt. “We should have just taken the damn bus.”

Lu Han cracks up so much he has to cling to Baekhyun’s shoulder to hold himself up. “You’re right. We’re such idiots.”

“Two surgeons, zero common sense,” Baekhyun says. “What is it about us and getting into stupid situations?”

“It’s an adventure,” Lu Han says. “You’re an adventure, Baekhyun, and I love adventures.”

Baekhyun feels like his whole body is glowing. He knows it’s too early in their relationship to be professing love directly, but even the hint that Lu Han might, possibly, love him makes him feel safer than he has in a very long time. He’d lost all hope in himself when Nari left him. His depression had made him believe he was unlovable, nothing but a burden, and everyone who knew him would be better off without him. But now, here is Lu Han, wanting to spend time with him, liking him, and maybe, just maybe, loving him too.

He doesn’t suggest they leave a lock here like Chanyeol and Yeonseok had. A love lock represents a commitment that Baekhyun knows is too soon for them. They’re boyfriends, but a symbol of undying love too much at this point, even though if he’s honest with himself Baekhyun would love to put a lock on the fence with Lu Han. He’s sure he loves Lu Han, because Lu Han makes him so happy and he wants to be with him all the time, but he’s aware that he can be too clingy, and he doesn’t want to push it and risk ruining everything. He’ll let Lu Han take the lead, like he has been doing so far, and keep on pleasing him, making him smile and laugh as much as he can, making sure Baekhyun is a likeable person to Lu Han. He’ll keep on hoping, and maybe some day before too long, they’ll come here again (via bus, no more cable cars or night hikes for them, thank you very much) and put a lock on the fence with Chanyeol and Yeonseok’s, and all the other people who love each other.

“This is impossible,” Lu Han says after they’ve been combing the crammed fences with their phone torches for a few minutes. “I’m starving after practically sprinting up that hill. Let’s just buy a lock and fake it.”

“You give up so quickly,” Baekhyun teases, but now that Lu Han mentions it, he’s hungry too, and he remembers he was too stressed out to eat lunch. Definitely a good idea to eat sooner than later. “Okay, let’s do it.”

They buy a lock from the vendor that looks the closest possible to the one in the picture Chanyeol gave him, and then Baekhyun carefully copies the strokes of his flatmates’ handwriting down the side of the lock. Lu Han, with great attention to detail, sets the code to the same numbers.

“I’ll take it right close up so that he can’t tell the locks around them are different,” Lu Han says, getting out his phone.

“Such attention to detail,” Baekhyun laughs. “You really are an evil genius.” He carefully hooks the fake lock onto the fence, and if he lets himself pretend, just for a second, that the lock has his and Lu Han’s names on it instead of Chanyeol and Yeonseok’s - well, nobody has to know. Lu Han crouches beside him to take a close-up of the lock. Then, turning the camera around, he suddenly presses his lips to the side of Baekhyun’s mouth and takes a photo.

“Hey, no fair!” Baekhyun says around his startlement, reaching for the phone to cover the fact that his heart is pounding in his chest again. “You didn’t let me pose, I’ll look super ugly.”

“You could never,” Lu Han says. They both look at the photo. Baekhyun’s eyes are wide and surprised as Lu Han kisses the corner of his mouth, both of their hair messed up from the wind and the exercise of the long climb. Something about seeing this in a photo - them, together, the proof of Lu Han liking him right there in front of him - makes Baekhyun’s feelings well up inside him, until he’s sure his body is far too small to have a hope of ever containing them.

“I’ll send it to you,” Lu Han whispers into his ear. Baekhyun wants to turn and kiss him properly, but there are too many people here, and he’s only too aware that not everyone is accepting of same-sex couples. He contents himself with smiling at Lu Han, and they may not be kissing, but he’s sure that if anyone was looking at them they’d be able to see Baekhyun’s heart right there on his sleeve, in his eyes, shining through his smile.

They go inside and queue up for the high-speed elevators. Funky lights swirl around them in the waiting area, swooping around the walls as trippy space-age music plays, until they get to the front of the queue and file into an elevator with a small group of other people. The ceiling screen lights up with a realistic image of the sky above them, the huge tower looming up into a starlit sky. Baekhyun tips his head back and stares in awe as the doors close. He feels Lu Han pressing close, and finds his fingers, interlacing them and holding tight. Music plays in a dramatic building crescendo, and as the elevator begins to rise, the image starts to swoop upwards towards the tower top, as if the elevator has no ceiling. Within seconds they’re past the tower, hurtling up into the sky, through layers of clouds and into space at impossible speed. Lu Han makes a small noise and turns to hide his face in Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun doesn’t blame him. It’s vertigo-inducing even without a fear of heights helping it along. He knows Lu Han well enough now to know that showing vulnerability like this is not easy for him, and yet he trusts Baekhyun enough to show it in front of him.

He cups the back of Lu Han’s neck with his free hand, remembering how soothing it is when Chanyeol does that for him, keeping his eyes turned up in fascination as the image shoots them through the solar system. Only a few moments later they’re at the observation deck level and the doors open.

“We’re here,” Baekhyun whispers, smiling as Lu Han lifts his head.

They follow the group out and go to explore the upper levels. There are glass windows all around the circular edges, showing them a view of the city night lights.

“You go look,” Lu Han says, noticing Baekhyun’s eyes looking eagerly at the windows. “I’ll just...inspect this sweet shop.” He gestures vaguely to the open-walled shop in the very centre of the tower, filled with multitudes of different types of sweets.

Baekhyun grins. “I won’t be long,” he promises. He trots over to the windows to kneel up on the ledge and peer out of the glass windows at the night cityscape below him, the lights of Seoul reflecting in the Han River and stretching out until they disappear into the distant Geomdansan mountain range. A few kids nearby are doing the same. When he’s looked enough, he goes back to the sweet shop, where he finds that Lu Han is clutching a small paper bag.

“Oh, you bought something?” he asks, reaching for the bag.

“The store owner was giving me weird looks,” Lu Han says sheepishly, letting Baekhyun look inside. “I had to buy something.”

“Gummy snakes,” Baekhyun says. “I love those!”

“They can be dessert,” Lu Han grins. “Let’s get food.”

They find a restaurant and a table far enough from the windows that Lu Han isn’t bothered by the view. When their food comes, Baekhyun remembers that he needs to take his meds with dinner. The familiar reluctance rises up inside him, throat reacting by trying to close up on him. He has his pills with him, he keeps a few in his wallet for situations like this when he’s out at mealtimes, but he doesn’t want to take them. Not here, not in front of Lu Han. Not when he’s so happy. Not when he has to practically gag them down these days, like he’d done at the start. It’s such a mission, and it’s embarrassing, and it feels so pointless now.

He frowns a little as a sudden thought strikes him. Antidepressants have side-effects. He’d struggled with a few for the first few weeks, dizziness and nausea especially, but it had gotten better as his body adjusted to the dosage and he’d been taken off the initial antipsychotics he’d also been taking. But now he remembers that difficulty concentrating can be a side-effect of antidepressants. Realisation strikes him like a thunderbolt. Is that why his brain isn’t functioning the way he wants it to when he studies? The antidepressants are stuffing up his concentration capacity?

“Baekhyun?” Lu Han’s voice calls him back to himself, and he realises he’s blanking out. He laughs and picks up his fork.

“Sorry, got distracted by the view,” he says. “This looks good.”

They eat and talk and laugh. Baekhyun doesn’t take his pill. He knows he needs to titrate down properly, reduce his dose gradually, not just quit cold turkey, and he should discuss it with his psychiatrist really, but skipping the pill for one day won’t matter. He has enough of the medication built up in his system over the past few months.

They discuss next week’s date. Lu Han already has a plan, and though he won’t tell Baekhyun what it is, he does say that it’s something that needs a full day for, and suggests the next Saturday. Baekhyun pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Saturdays are when he sees his psychiatrist. But he doesn’t want to go see his psychiatrist, and he does want to hang out with Lu Han. Being with Lu Han is way better for his mood than therapy appointments anyway.

“Sure, next Saturday is great,” he says. Maybe it’s time he stopped therapy anyway. He’s so sick and tired of it, and it’s not like he actually needs his psychiatrist to tell him how to titrate his meds down safely. He’s a doctor, he knows how to titrate. He’ll reduce his own dosage over the next few weeks, and then he’ll be able to concentrate again.

The decision gives him a sense of great relief. The idea of being completely normal again is so appealing. Lu Han knows about his history, thanks to the stupid panic attack he’d had during the power cut at his apartment, but not that Baekhyun is still on antidepressants. Baekhyun would tell him if he asked directly. He’s not trying to keep it secret, not exactly. He’s just not telling Lu Han something he doesn’t need to know about. He doesn’t want Lu Han to see him as still sick, or unstable, because he’s not. He’s fine, and he’s going to prove it to everyone. He’s going to be stable on his own, without chemical intervention, and he’s going to pass his fellowship examination, and get a place on a specialized fellowship programme for next year. He’s going to be the person he was before his world broke apart around him last year, and he broke apart with it.

He smiles as Lu Han tells him about something crazy his cat did the other day. Everything is going to be better soon. Everything is going to be perfect.

\---

Sehun wakes up in the middle of the night. His eyes slowly get used to the darkness around them, the contours of the furniture slowly showing, and the butterflies that have resided in his stomach for the last couple of days wake up and begin to flutter around. He turns around in the bed to stare at Mikyung. She has kicked the blanket off in the early autumn heat and her dark hair is splayed across her pillow. There’s a line of saliva trailing from the corner of her mouth and sometimes a soft snore escapes her. He reaches out to gently run a finger over her forehead, trails her hairline down towards her ear and further down to her chin. She turns and pulls her hand towards her chest and Sehun eyes the ring on her ring finger. When they had bought the rings he’d been excited to see her smile and the representation of what they were about to do had made him want to fly in happiness. It hadn’t really hit him, however, until a couple of days ago when he finally convinced Mikyung to get their pre-wedding photos taken. We’re eloping, she had argued, and Sehun had nodded and asked her to please do it with him regardless to have the memories. She’d worn a simple white dress with her hair up in a ponytail, curls falling onto her shoulder and flowers to accentuate the beautiful dark color. He had been in a simple blue suit, a yellow rose in the breast pocket. They’d stood in front of a large rustic brick wall in a small simple studio as the photographer had them pose differently. The way their eyes shine every time they look at each other is the same in every photograph, though, and every time he flips through them he understands why other people have them taken before their wedding.

He’s not unhappy with their decision to marry in secret, or ‘elope’ as Mikyung insists on calling it; in fact he’s the furthest from regretting it. Their mothers would have been a nightmare. A fancy feast prepared weeks ahead, outfits and flower arrangements and wedding venues neither of their families would be able to afford. There would be eyes on them the entire day, and the only eyes Sehun wants on him is Mikyung’s.

He gets out of bed ten minutes later when he’s sure he won’t be getting more sleep tonight. There’s no reason to wake Mikyung up by being restless. The door to the bedroom closes softly and Sehun heads towards the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He sits in the dark house, looking out at the dim suburban street. It’s their six-year couple anniversary today, and a new beginning to a relationship that will never end. He takes another sip of his coffee and leans back against the chair he’s sitting on. Six years of happiness, of being together with someone they never had to hide anything from. Six years of sunshine in a world that for Sehun had always been somehow dim and grey before Mikyung.

He’d had girlfriends before her, but never one like her. She understands his bad days and his good days, his humour and his sarcasm. She knows when to say things and when to stay quiet, and she has taught him so much with the maturity and steadiness behind her laughter.

The sun begins to rise as Sehun empties his cup of coffee and with the sun and the colours of a burning sky, the butterflies slowly settle. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Sehun might not have thought much about marriage before Mikyung brought it up, but it won’t change anything in their relationship. All they’re doing is affirming a commitment they’ve never really doubted.

Mikyung gets up two hours later, hands stretched above her head as she yawns and joins him in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning down to kiss him. “When did you get up?”

Sehun shrugs a little. “I don’t know. Before sunrise.”

“Why so early?” She runs her hand down the back of his head, leaning against the chair a little.

Sehun shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikyung hums and leaves him to make herself a coffee, picking up his empty one from in front of him. “You want another?”

“Sure,” Sehun says, watching her back as she makes the drinks.

She sits down across from him at the kitchen table, fresh coffee in front of both of them. She still looks sleepy, but all Sehun really sees is her beauty. The dried saliva down her chin, her hair like a bird's nest and deep brown eyes slightly puffy with sleep, all of it is beautiful to him.

She looks up at him after taking a sip of her coffee, and Sehun grins at her. “Happy sixth year anniversary.”

Mikyung snorts and puts her hand over her mouth to save her sip.

“Congratulations on our wedding day, Oh Sehun,” she tells him when she finally swallows.

They end up on the couch, coffee cups empty in front of them on the coffee table. Mikyung has pulled the throw blanket from the armchair and curled it around her, her head resting on Sehun’s shoulder. They’re looking through the photo albums on his phone, reminiscing everything that has happened to them the past six years. Mikyung points to a photo on his screen before he gets to slide to the next.

“That was when you met my parents for the first time,” she says. Sehun looks at a six-year younger version of himself, shy smile and dyed blonde hair. He looks like a teenager, although he had been twenty-four when they’d met, standing in Mikyung’s parents' living room in his nicest button-down shirt, shoulders stiff and a stilted smile on his face with Mikyung by his side. The photo is taken by her mother, to celebrate Mikyung finally bringing home a decent man, and Sehun had felt even more nervous than he had before.

“That was horrible,” he murmurs, but Mikyung hears it and laughs. She hits his chest once before she reaches down to slide to the next photo. There are pictures of them at the beach where he had taught Mikyung to surf, pictures from important birthdays and events. There are pictures of them dressed up and them dressed down, each one feeling more and more natural. Smiles turn mischievous and fingers tangle into each other with each passing photo. There are photos of sunflowers and prank gifts, of ramen and coffee cups, until they reach the latest photo, the selfie of them both Mikyung had taken when Sehun had missed his friends and coworkers in Seoul.

Sehun still misses the others, but as he’s gotten more experience with the clinic and the patients he is starting to see regularly, it has faded into the background a little. Coming home to Mikyung doesn’t make his life feel empty anymore, there is no longer that void in his chest that can’t be filled by anyone else. He hasn’t really managed to make any new friends like them down here, but he will be fine. Besides, Jongin has already pestered him about coming down next time he has a weekend off. Mikyung takes his phone and puts it down on the table and Sehun tears his mind from the thoughts of his friends.

“What are you thinking of?” she asks him, and Sehun touches her nose with his finger.

“You, of course,” he says back, and she rolls her eyes.

Sehun busies himself in the afternoon when he sets out to find the perfect sunflower for his outfit. He also has to pick up Mikyung’s bouquet and a package she’d received at the post office. They’re going to say their vows in the evening, the sunset on the beach creating the perfect background. It’s not officially getting married; that’s for Monday when the district office opens. He has Jongin’s witness signature and another from Mikyung’s best friend safely secured, but they want to hold their private ceremony first, just the two of them, even though the law won’t recognize them as married until they hand over the paperwork.

The area on the small beach where they’re going to say their vows is secluded from the public eye, near the cliffs, where the water stretches out into the horizon. It has the softest sand and the sun shines directly onto it when it sits low in the sky. It’s a good surfing spot as well, but the beach is further away from the city and not a lot of surfers seem to know of it, or want to bother driving the extra distance when there are closer breaks of similar quality to be had. It’s their little secret place, one that now is going to signify more than just surfing. He smiles automatically at the thought of it.

The lady in the flower shop sends him a genuine smile as she hands over the small bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath. It’s packed in protective paper to make sure nothing happens to it on the way home and next to it lies a single sunflower bound with a few pieces of baby’s breath around it for his shirt pocket. There’s a long line in the post office and as time ticks by, Sehun finds himself getting impatient. He just wants to go home. The package Mikyung has received is heavy and large and it takes a few seconds before Sehun finds the best way to carry it to the car.

As he parks in the driveway and struggles to carry it back inside, he calls for Mikyung. She pops her head out of the bedroom door with an apologetic smile and eye-liner on one eye and the other bare.

“Just put it in front of the door,” she tells him. “I’m getting ready.” She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs, before she ducks back inside the bedroom and closes the door. Sehun chuckles at her with a shake of his head. They’ve agreed not to be too formal; it’ll just be the two of them on a beach, but Sehun wants to do something extra, wants to make this perfect for her. He puts the package down and leaves the flowers on the kitchen counter. He has put his clothes in her office and as he closes the door behind him and stares at the white shirt everything suddenly becomes startlingly clear. He’s getting married today to the most amazing woman in the world. If anyone had told sixteen-year-old Sehun that he wouldn’t be marrying his current high school crush, he would have been gutted beyond repair, but being with Mikyung is better than he could have fantasized. He smiles at his reflection in the window and runs his damp palms against his pants before he changes into his clothes and gets ready.

When they arrive at the beach, the sun is slowly setting, colouring the sky in pinks and purples. Mikyung is in a simple knee-length white dress, and he’s wearing black slacks, cuffs rolled up past his ankles to avoid the wet sand, white shirt tucked loosely into his pants. The ocean in front of them is peaceful, waves licking playfully at their bare feet as they walk hand-in-hand along the water’s edge to reach their place by the cliffs. Sehun turns to look at Mikyung and they face each other, hands interlaced.

“My mother is going to hate you for this,” Mikyung says for the nth time, smiling up at him. Sehun laughs.

“So is mine, but I don’t care.”

And he really doesn’t. His mother-in-law will forgive him in due time, just like his own mother will have to do. Sehun looks out towards the ocean and takes a deep breath. His heart thumps steadily in his chest, and when he turns back to face her again, her beautiful eyes are misty.

“You say your vows first,” she says, and her smile grows even bigger. Sehun nods, feeling a little dazed. She’s just so beautiful that he doesn’t know how to contain the emotions welling up inside his chest. He wets his lips, suddenly struck by a desire to hold her and never let go. He squeezes her hands, willing himself to remember how to speak, and she gazes up at him patiently until he manages to start his vows.

“Cha Mikyung, how lucky am I to call you mine? Your love and trust makes me a better person, each and every day. You are there for my greatest challenges. You encourage me to grow. You help me believe in myself and become the person that I am today. In your arms and by your side, I know I can do anything. I'm proud to call you my wife.” Sehun would be lying if he tried to convince anyone he wasn’t crying. Mikyung’s eyes are glistening too as she reaches up to dry his cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Oh Sehun, do you remember the very first day that we met? I knew the very first moment I saw you. I knew we were meant to be together for all of our days. You have become my lover, my companion, and my best friend. There's no one else I'd want to build a life with. I get to have you by my side, my love and my husband, for eternity.”

They don’t need anyone to say, ‘you may now kiss the bride’. Sehun bends his head to meet her lips and feels her hand come up to the back of his neck. There is no one on the beach except for them and the moon that is slowly rising above the horizon. When he lets go, he sends her a smile.

“We’re married,” she whispers. Sehun nods. They’re married. Six years into their relationship and this is only the beginning. She untangles their fingers and flings her arms around him. “We’re married!” she shouts towards the sky and starts laughing and Sehun can’t help but laugh with her. He lifts her up and she swings her legs around him. Sehun keeps his hold on her and she leans down to kiss him again. There is nothing he wants more in this moment than to kiss her like this. The world can come with challenges, but there is nothing they won’t be able to fight as long as they’re together. Mikyung lets go of him and wiggles a little to be let down but Sehun only tightens his grip. She laughs at him.

“Put me down, don’t hurt yourself,” she tells him but Sehun shakes his head and buries his head in her neckline.

“Never,” he mumbles against her sun-kissed skin and when he lifts his head, he turns it towards the ocean. Mikyung follows his gaze and her eyes widen.

“You’re crazy,” she tells him. Sehun smirks at her.

“Crazy about you.”

Mikyung screams in laughter as Sehun starts running into the water, cold droplets splashing onto them. His pants get soaked immediately and when he’s out to his navel, his shirt is slowly getting soaked as well. Mikyung clings to him, laughing in happiness, and there is no better sound. He leans over and dips her down into the water and she lets go of his midsection and finds her footing on the ocean floor. She sends him a smile as the water gently caresses them.

“I love you, my crazy doctor,” she tells him and Sehun smiles shyly.

“I love you too, my...” he starts but he can’t find any words to describe her. “My Mikyung.”

She shakes her head at him and leans up to kiss him again. Sehun gently wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, holding his wife in his arms as the calm ocean ripples around them.


	2. September 16th

A loud shout stops all movement in the ED for a second. Minseok looks up from the patient he’s attending with a furrowed brow, staring into the hallway. Another shout, threatening and loud, screams through the corridors of the ED. He turns towards Nurse Seo, who’s drawing five milligrams of morphine into a syringe.

“Call Dr. Min,” he tells her before he hurries towards the shouts. They grow in volume and threats and soon he finds himself in front of an agitated patient that has cornered Nurse Han. She stands tall like her experience has taught her, but the patient doesn’t back down, shouting obscenities towards his nurses. It’s a man in what looks like his thirties and it’s only a matter of time before someone gets hurt, either the patient himself or Minseok’s nursing staff. Unless they can calm him down, that is. Minseok would rather not call security unless he really has to. Having security guards show up sometimes only escalates the situation.

“Excuse me,” he says calmly and the man turns from Nurse Han towards him. He watches Nurse Han breathe a sigh of relief as her shoulders sag. The patient shouts at him, hand movements big and Minseok doesn’t doubt that if he had access to sharp instruments, someone would be hurt very badly very quickly.

“I can see you’re very upset,” he tells the man and raises his hands in front of him to show that he doesn’t have any ulterior motive. “Why don’t we sit down?”

The patient narrows his eyes at Minseok before he lunges out towards him, spitting on the floor in anger. He grabs the pillow from the exam bed and throws it at Minseok. Nurse Han bites her lower lip to prevent her from saying anything, but Minseok doesn’t flinch. It’s not often they have such agitated patients in their ED, but Minseok is prepared when they come. He knows it’s often a matter of substance abuse or underlying psychiatric disorders, but if he doesn’t calm them down enough to prevent them from hurting themselves or his employees, he’s not one step closer to a diagnosis. A couple of years ago, he took a seminar in agitated delirium because he’d exhausted everything else and had to have something to focus on. It comes in handy when he’s confronted with agitated patients in these rare circumstances. Nurse Han is, luckily, an experienced nurse and she knows not to talk over Minseok. He subtly nods at her, giving her the go-ahead to call security, and she nods and taps silently on her pager.

Minseok continues talking to the patient. He’d rather avoid physical restraint. It rarely ever does any good to a patient and he risks sudden cardiac arrest. He feels a bit like Yifan in situations like this, calm and collected, not a trace of how the verbal abuse affects him. If he can’t stay calm, there’s no way he can calm the patient. The man in front of him continues his verbal abuse, though, and as he starts to grab whatever he can get his hands on and throw it towards the walls with incredible strength, Minseok has to suspect something more sinister at play. The patient reaches out towards the table that holds all the emergency syringes and that’s the last straw. If he gets his hands on the sharp needles, there’s no way Minseok will be able to protect his staff without restraints of some kind.

“Put the syringe down,” Minseok says calmly, just as a couple of security guards arrive behind him and step into the room. The patient waves it towards them, losing focus as he starts to sweat profusely. Minseok eyes him worriedly. His symptoms are worsening in the presence of more people, but he has to put an end to the agitation before someone gets hurt.

“No!” the man screams before he drags his hand over his forehead to remove the sweat, which only comes back faster than before. “Don’t come near me! You’re all going to kill me!”

Time slows in the ED as Minseok considers his options, but there really isn’t anything more he can do with someone in such an altered state. He nods to the security guards, who surge forward to grab the patient and hold him as he struggles with incredible strength. The guards are strong, but they’re struggling against a patient in agitated delirium. Minseok takes the syringe of ketamine Nurse Han holds out towards him and jams it in the patient's thigh. It’s a fast-working sedative and the patient is sedated within five minutes. Minseok springs into action.

“Call the respiratory technician, get monitoring on the patient and call the laboratory to get me a blood gas and an electrolyte count. I need an anaesthesiologist if intubation becomes necessary.” He reaches for the stethoscope in his pocket and quickly listens to the patient’s lungs and heart. They’ll have to figure out what caused the agitation and they have to do it quickly so they can treat it.

High blood pressure numbers are called out in the room. His body temperature is high also and his rapid heart rate tracing scrolls along the ECG monitor screen. Everybody is focused on their own tasks, and Minseok takes a step back and lets the anaesthesiologist take over. He needs to find the cause of the agitated delirium so he can treat it. He considers sending the patient for a head CT to rule out traumatic head injury when a heart-wrenching scream rings through the ED.

He hurries towards the waiting area and finds a woman sitting on the floor and sobbing. She’s dressed in a short red dress, high heels and a fake leopard fur.

“Kyunsung,” she sobs, repeating the name over and over. Minseok turns to look at Aecha who’s crouching down beside the woman. She shrugs her shoulders. “Kyunsung, please,” the woman begs and Minseok crouches down in front of her.

“Who’s Kyunsung?” he asks her and she looks up with red eyes and mascara on her cheeks. She sniffles and runs a finger under her eye to remove her tears. Minseok sends her a kind smile.

“My boyfriend...he had a seizure. I called the ambulance and followed him here,” she tells them. Aecha gets up from the floor and heads back to the triage station computer, and Minseok hands the woman on the floor a tissue so she can dry her eyes.

“Does he have epilepsy?” he asks but she shakes her head. Aecha has looked up the recent ambulance arrivals and pipes up with a room number. It’s the room Minseok just left a few minutes prior, the room with the agitated and now-sedated man.

“Do you know if he has any medical conditions?” he asks the woman and she shakes her head.

“He is healthy.” She sniffles again and blows her nose in the tissue. When she removes the tissue from her nose, Minseok notices a streak of red on it. He tilts his head.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he tells her. It’s not immediately concerning, she has been crying and that can cause nosebleeds in people susceptible to them, but the woman’s eyes go wide, her expression caught, and she quickly hides the tissue. The furtive action clues him in to another possible cause.

“Do you know if Kyunsung took any drugs or any substances?” he asks, and something in her demeanor changes. She straightens her back and her gaze hardens.

“How dare you accuse -!” she says, her voice rising. Minseok sends her his most non-threatening smile. He stands up and reaches a hand down to help her up.

“Come. Let me help you up.” She takes his hand uncertainly, but Minseok stays calm. He turns to look over his shoulder towards Aecha. She nods, understanding, and points towards a free room. When the door closes behind them, Minseok turns towards the cabinets and finds a small cotton ball. He hands it to the woman, who is now sitting on the exam bed and smiles at her. “Use it to stop your nosebleed.” She reaches out to take it, hands shaking, but Minseok just encourages her to take it. Slowly she takes a deep breath and presses the cotton to her nose.

“I need to know if Kyunsung took any drugs. His life depends on it. I’m not going to tell the police. I just want to save his life.”

The woman sniffles again, her eyes getting wet as the thought sinks in. Soon after she’s crying again, her knees drawn against her chest as she rocks back and forth on the exam bed. Minseok sits down beside her.

“Did you take something too?” he asks her quietly. She continues crying as the thought seems to overwhelm her. Then a soft whispered answer.

“Cocaine,” she sniffles. “I didn’t think he’d do the last line, but he was so cocky and, oh God, is he going to die? Please save him...” She’s unable to say more through her tears and Minseok squeezes her shoulder.

“Can you tell me how much he took?” he asks, and carefully notes her answer, before telling her he’ll do his best and getting up to go back to Kyunsung. The fact that they’re dealing with a stimulant overdose is important information and the treating team needs to know.

He finds Nurse Kim at the nursing station and asks her to attend to the woman with the nosebleed before he heads back to Kyunsung, now intubated and on life support as his team fights to keep his body from losing the battle. There’s nothing they can do to directly counteract the cocaine overdose, but they can provide aggressive cooling for his overheating body temperature, treat any more seizures, and support his vital signs as best they can.

Kyunsung is transferred to the ICU when his vitals stabilize. Minseok thinks of Eunsook and hopes there’ll be another doctor assigned to him, not because he doubts her work, but because he knows how agitated Kyunsung was when he arrived at the ED and he doesn’t want Eunsook to have to deal with patients like that. He’s heading back towards the patient he left with Dr. Min when the door to his room opens and he gets eye contact with the brown eyes he’d just been thinking of. Eunsook smiles at him and Minseok finds himself automatically smiling back, like there’s nothing else in the entire world.

“What brings you here?” he asks. Eunsook points towards the now closed door behind her.

“Patient with liver failure. Your resident called me,” she says. “He’s a smart one, that Dr. Min of yours.” Her pager interrupts them before Minseok gets to answer and her eyebrows furrow when she reads the message on it.

“I have to go. I’ll see you,” Eunsook says as she starts walking back towards the elevators so she can get back to the ICU. Minseok stares at her retreating back.

“Don’t forget me tonight!” he calls after her and she turns around with a big smile, gums showing and eyes crinkling, before she turns around a corner and disappears. Minseok’s heart flutters and he takes a deep breath as he turns on his heels and walks in the opposite direction.

When lunch comes around, Minseok clocks out. He has an appointment with Yifan at one o’clock and he has to eat lunch before then. He leaves his doctor's coat on the chair in his office and as the computer slowly shuts down, his attention is caught by the two pictures on his desk. A year ago he hadn’t been able to look at them without pain searing through his entire being, paralyzing him with sadness and grief. Now he sends both pictures a smile. There is still a sting of sadness, a fist of grief squeezing his heart, but it lets go and he’s able to breathe again. No flashbacks, no clawing hands of guilt and blame, no overwhelming sadness. The computer screen goes black and Minseok sends it a quick glance before he leaves his office that was once a bedroom, but now has turned back into an office.

On his way towards the front doors, he sees Kyungsoo across the front hall, on his way back towards the stairs with a sandwich in hand. The radiologist raises a hand in greeting and Minseok waves back, but they’re too far away from each other to stop for conversation.

His lunch consists of two triangle-shaped kimbap from the nearest convenience store as he makes his way out of the hospital and towards the familiar old building that hosts GreenLine Psychology. The heavy doors open into the dark waiting area, but after six months it feels familiar and soothing instead of disconcerting. The receptionist barely looks at him, but she doesn’t need to because Changwook recognizes him and calls his name in cheerful greeting. Minseok smiles at him and returns the greeting, and Yifan’s partner heads back into his office with the papers in hand, shutting the door behind him. Minseok sits down on the couch, but he can’t stop smiling. He thinks about the evening he has planned with Eunsook and how much fun it’s going to be. When Yifan finally pops his head out to scour the waiting area for Minseok, he’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Yifan call out his name until the third time. Yifan lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t ask questions. He just sits down in his chair and Minseok takes his seat on the couch and leans back.

“You look happy,” Yifan notes after a few seconds of silence. Normally their sessions would start with Minseok recounting his steps from the last time. He’d list what he’s done to stay out of the office at night and get back to his own apartment. It has taken a while and he’s still not entirely comfortable in his large, empty apartment, but at least he sleeps in his own bed these nights.

“I am,” he confirms. Yifan smiles and nods for Minseok to elaborate. That surprises Minseok for a second or two. Talking about his new friendship with Eunsook feels oddly private, which is weird, because it’s just a friendship, but he switches his thoughts to one of the other good things that has happened recently.

“Jangmi allowed Nayoung to have a small birthday party with me this year,” he tells Yifan. “Obviously Jangmi still hosted the bigger family birthday party with all her friends over, but when Nayoung brought up the idea, she wasn’t against it. We had fun, just the three of us, Nayoung, Eunbi and I.” He smiles at the thought. There was a cake, store bought but tasty nonetheless, and he’d put eleven candles on it so she could blow them out and make a wish. They’d opened Nayoung’s presents - a soccer jersey with her favourite player’s name and number emblazoned on the back and the next book in the series she’s been reading - and then they had cuddled on the couch and watched Disney movies until the girls had fallen asleep in the late evening hours. For the first time since Ilsung’s death, Minseok had felt like a good father and he enjoyed every minute of it. Yifan nods at him when he finishes his retelling.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It was,” Minseok agrees. He’d like to do it again in November when Eunbi turns nine.

“But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Minseok is taken aback. Yifan’s ability to see through him is almost scary at times. He laughs a little, giving up on his idea of keeping Eunsook to himself. There’s no reason to, anyway.

“I made a new friend,” he says. “I’ve been really enjoying getting to know her.”

“Tell me more about her?” Yifan asks. Minseok eyes him suspiciously, and Yifan raises his hands in surrender and laughs. “I’m just curious. You’ve been keeping everything secret. I wonder who this new friend is.” There’s a genuine smile on his lips, and Minseok’s hackles lower.

“She’s an intensivist at the hospital. There was a case a month ago that reminded me of Ilsung at the ED. He was sent to the ICU and we spoke in the morning when I went to check on the patient. I was a bit overwhelmed and she was really nice about it.” Yifan lifts a questioning eyebrow at that, and Minseok leans back against the couch.

“I’m okay. I have friends now,” he jokes but the psychologist nods again without showing any readable emotion on his face. “I ended up working through that case when I shouldn’t have, but at least I recognize my bad coping mechanisms now.”

“She sounds like a good friend already,” Yifan says, not digging into the case Minseok tells him about. Minseok nods.

“I enjoy hanging out with her.” A smile creeps onto his lips at the thought of spending time with Eunsook.

Their conversation turns a little sombre, a little darker, when he asks if Minseok has told Eunsook about Ilsung, and they discuss Minseok’s reluctance to bring up the subject with his new friend and why he might be wanting to keep things light between them. Yifan suggests he tell Eunsook sooner rather than later, explaining that trust is important in all kinds of relationships, but Minseok still doesn’t feel happy about it. He doesn’t want to weigh things down with tragic topics like the death of his child and all that had followed.

By the time he leaves the happiness he’d arrived with is gone. His face doesn’t show his emotions as he walks down the street towards his car, but there’s turmoil inside him. The sadness of his past weighs down on him like it always does when he talks about Ilsung with Yifan. He has stopped crying now, at least, at every mention of Ilsung’s name, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Yet still, under all the terrible sadness is a growing spark of silly giddiness at the thought of meeting Eunsook later.

He unlocks the apartment door in the afternoon. It’s still too empty, the ceiling light shining down on empty floors and bare walls. The long hallway into the living space of his apartment seems too long today so he steers off to the left and into the kitchen to get a drink. He’d been in such a good mood when he left the hospital, feeling like he was finally getting his life together, but now he’s no longer so sure. His hair falls into his eyes as he fills a glass with water and he blows it from his eyes with a huff. He should get it cut, it’s getting too long. As he’s gulping the water down, a low pling sounds from his phone, a reminder he’d set for an hour before he’s to meet Eunsook.

A hot shower later, Minseok feels a little better. The thoughts of today’s session with Yifan is replaced by thoughts of meeting Eunsook, and the smile he’d worn when he’d left the hospital has returned to his lips. Minseok tries to style his hair in the mirror but it really is too long, he should get someone to cut it. In the end he gives up and lets it flop whichever way it wants. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt and a pair of tight jeans. On the table in front of him are two different ties but they both feel too formal and this is not a formal date, it’s just two friends hanging out. Still, he wants to look like he’s made an effort. He brushes his teeth for the second time this evening before he turns to leave the bathroom behind. As he waits for time to pass by, he starts stress-cleaning the apartment. For years this particular coping mechanism was suppressed by his work and his escapism, but now that he’s slowly working through his grief, it has returned full force. Whenever he’s nervous he moves things back and forth, cleans up every little tiny dust speck that has found its way onto his surfaces and vacuums imaginary dirt from his floors.

Ten minutes before he’s supposed to leave, he decides to just go. He has so much pent up nervousness and it’s better for him to wait at the café than stay at home destroying the skin of his hands with overexposure to cleaning chemicals. It takes him fifteen minutes to walk to the café and he stops outside the door, soaks in the soft fall air and takes a deep breath. His stomach tightens in nervousness and excitement and Minseok has to close his eyes to try and convince himself this is just a friendly hang-out. She’s a good friend, that is all. He thinks of Yifan asking him to consider telling her about Ilsung, but Minseok isn’t quite there yet. One day, maybe, when he feels better.

Instead of making his way inside the café, Minseok stays outside in the fresh air, hoping it’ll quell his nerves. A silver Kia rolls up in front of the café five minutes before their meeting time and Eunsook steps out, sends her friend in the driver’s seat a smile and waves at her. Minseok unfortunately gets eye contact with the friend over Eunsook’s shoulder, and the glare she sends him makes shivers roll down his spine. Then he catches Eunsook’s eyes and she immediately smiles wide, and his stomach starts doing acrobatics. She’s beautiful. She’s wearing a white dress with red flowers that stops right below her knees with a black belt to accentuate her waist. The white flats on her feet have her almost dancing her way towards him and she stops in front of him with a happy smile. Minseok feels like his breath has been stolen. She’s so attractive. Fuck, he realises with startling clarity. This is not platonic in the least. He’s horribly, terribly attracted to her and it sends him into a mini panic attack. He can’t be attracted to her. He’s going to ruin the friendship they have going. What is he supposed to do?

“Hey, Minseok, are you okay?” Eunsook asks and distracts his thoughts from spiraling further into panic. He then realises the easiest way out would be to say no, but he doesn’t want to leave. His feet can’t physically take him away from her, his entire body is locked in its position right in front of her. This is not meeting for the first time, they’ve spoken before. He brought her to Busan, they have fun together. He will just have to deal with the attraction when he’s back alone. Minseok nods his head and sends her a smile that feels so natural, he has to wonder for a second if the panic he felt two seconds earlier was real.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where are we going?” he asks her and walks up so he stands beside her, not in front of her. Maybe if he just doesn’t look at her on the way to where they’re going, he’ll stop thinking of her as more than a good friend. Eunsook smiles and naturally links her arm with his as she starts pulling him towards the subway station closest to the café.

So much for not looking at Eunsook, Minseok thinks bitterly in the subway. He has been unable to keep his eyes off her. Every time other men in the train car look at her - and why wouldn’t they, she’s gorgeous - he fights the scowl that wants to grow on his face and he has to fist his hand around the handle so hard his fingers cramp to stop himself from putting a possessive arm around her. Eunsook chatters happily about a new plant she has added to her collection and managed to keep alive for a few days and Minseok has never been as interested in plants as he is when Eunsook talks about them.

The overhead announcer takes them through the city as they ride the green line. Eunsook grabs onto his hand when she gets up and a bolt of heat shoots through Minseok’s body. He looks down as the announcer tells them to leave through the left door at Ttukseom station and hopes he isn’t blushing like a mad man. They buy tteokbokki from a nearby street stall before they arrive at their destination. Seoul Forest is a large park in the middle of the city, but as they enter the noise of the traffic is left behind by children laughing and people talking. The trees transform the large city they live in into a tranquil forest. Minseok turns to look at Eunsook and is surprised to find that she’s looking at him too. She has sauce from her tteokbokki on the side of her mouth and Minseok automatically reaches out to remove it. When he realises what he’s doing, thumb on the side of her mouth, he pulls away quickly and looks away.

“You have sauce…” he mumbles and points to his own mouth. Eunsook wipes it quickly and giggles.

“Thanks,” she tells him but Minseok feels like he’s overstepped a million boundaries by doing this. He doesn’t think he can ever recover. Eunsook doesn’t mention it any more, though, as they walk away from playgrounds and fountains and into the trees. The farther they walk, the fewer people there are. They have thrown their cups into the trash cans and Minseok has dug his hands so very far into his pockets that he’s afraid he might poke holes in them. Every time he turns to look at her, he wants to reach out and hold her hand and there is no way he’s overstepping more boundaries than he has already done thus far.

Eunsook pulls him towards a bench when they’ve walked for another twenty minutes. Minseok looks towards her but she just shrugs.

“My feet are killing me,” Eunsook says dramatically, but Minseok knows that isn’t quite the truth. Still he humours her when he sits down beside her and sends her a smile.

“Poor Eunsook, should I carry you back?” he asks and she laughs and smacks his shoulder. Minseok’s heart beats in his chest and he curses himself for joking with her because he wants to lean over and kiss her lips. She doesn’t seem to notice his predicament. Minseok is both relieved that he hasn’t messed up yet and terrified that he’ll slip up at some point and hint towards more than friendship. It’s a fine balance, one he isn’t quite sure he can manage if she keeps on being so cute.

“No need for that. You should massage them though,” she laughs and lifts her feet into the air, pretending to put them on Minseok’s lap and he scoots away.

“I don’t want your dirty shoes in my lap!” There’s laughter twinkling in his eyes and Eunsook gasps in mock offense before she puts down her feet again. The atmosphere loosens up as they make their way down the forest paths again, her feet never really hurting to begin with. Minseok’s feelings don’t dwindle. Every minute he spends with Eunsook he becomes more acutely aware of his attraction to her. It’s not only physical, he realises, when they walk towards the food stand selling hot dogs. She’s so easy to talk to, so easy to be with. He doesn’t have to pretend he’s someone he’s not, doesn’t have to act a certain way. He can just be Minseok with all his flaws, and although Eunsook doesn’t know the worst of his trauma yet, she has accepted him as the Kim Minseok he presented to her, divorced with two daughters and a demanding job and a tendency to space out or react oddly at certain times. She’s taken it all in her stride, and there is no underlying feeling of not being good enough, just respect and kindness extended to the person he is. Minseok likes that feeling, likes fitting in right beside her and it only makes the thought of it all being platonic so much harder.

He shakes his head to stop himself from thinking of it. He’s with her right now. There’s no reason to be gloomy. He should blame Yifan for making him in tune with his emotions. A year ago, Minseok didn’t feel anything but shame and guilt. Now that he’s able to cry, he’s also able to fall in love. That thought sends another jolt of panic through his body. How did he go from being physically attracted to falling in love in the span of a couple of hours? He’s in so much trouble.

He’s pulled from his thoughts again when Eunsook latches onto his arm, her chest pressing against his side as she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Oppa,” she says, stretching the word in a deliberately cutesy way. Minseok fights to keep his feelings from the surface and raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean oppa?” he asks her. “You’re older than me.”

Eunsook sulks and lets go of him and Minseok wishes he could pull her back.

“Only by a year,” she says and then points towards the hot dog stand. “Buy me a corn dog, will you?” Minseok follows her gaze and grins as he understands the reason for the cute-attack. He turns back towards Eunsook and this time he reaches out towards her, grabs onto her arm and bats his eyelashes.

“Noona,” he says pleadingly, then looks meaningfully at the corn dog stand. She stares at him in disbelief before throwing back her head, her laughter ringing through the park. There’s a second in which time seems to pause as they get eye contact and Minseok might be fooling himself, but she looks like she leans closer, just a millimeter, before she pulls away and punches his shoulder. He reluctantly lets go of her.

“It’s unfair to pull my own trick on me.” Minseok just laughs and pulls out his wallet. The rest of the evening is spent walking around in the forest, the street lights lining the paths glowing orange and lighting their way. As people start to file out of the forest, Minseok turns his gaze towards his companion and smiles at her. She’s telling him the story of when she broke her ankle, foolishly trying to keep up with her friend’s taekwondo and missing a step. When Minseok doesn’t respond to her self-deprecating conclusion, she turns to look at him and fades into a smile.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him and gently leads him towards the exit of the park. He wants to desperately say you, but he can’t say that without outing his feelings. Instead he messes up his excuses, mumbles sentences that don’t make sense, even to him, and she giggles at him. There’s a soft look in her eyes, something Minseok can’t interpret in his own flailing panic. They buy soft drinks from the GS25 before they make their way back towards Ttukseom station.

The subway is less crowded at this time of evening and they both get a seat. Eunsook wiggles out of her flats, rests her feet on top of her shoes and Minseok sends her a smile. Neither of them say much as the subway takes them back to the café they met at.

“How are you getting home?” he asks as they stand in front of each other. Eunsook shrugs and shivers a little in her dress. With the evening the temperature has dropped a little. It’s still not too cold, but seeing her shiver makes Minseok wish he’d brought a jacket so he could give it to her.

“I’ll take the bus home. Gwiboon will be too drunk to pick me up now. She just brought me here because she was going to see another friend of hers at a bar nearby.” Eunsook looks towards the bus stop and Minseok looks at her. He doesn’t want the evening to end now, but he doesn’t have any right to keep her any longer. They both have work tomorrow.

“Tonight was nice,” she tells him and sends him a smile, soft and kind and Minseok’s heart flutters again for who knows what time, he doesn’t keep count any more. He nods with a smile. “Let’s do it again another time.” She takes a step towards the bus stop and then another and Minseok feels frozen in his spot as he watches her go.

“Eunsook!” he calls after her, surprising himself. He reaches out towards her and his feet take him the few metres so he’s in front of her again. She turns around and sends him a curious smile. “Want to go back to my place and get ice cream? I can drive you home later.” His heart is beating so loud in his chest he can hear the blood rushing towards his brain. “You don’t have to freeze waiting for the bus. Besides, I might owe you that foot massage now that you’ve walked oh so far with me this evening.” What is he even saying? This is dumb, this is so dumb. Who even says that after a friendly night out? He’s ruining everything. This is it, this is when he gives himself away and she looks at him with a sad smile and tells him that he’s very sweet, but she doesn’t like him like that. Oh, why did he have to say that? Why couldn’t he just keep quiet? He should’ve just told her that he liked tonight and asked her to text him when she got home safely. Minseok wants to plant his face on the building beside him but it would look stupid and alarming and he refuses to have a meltdown over being a stupid idiot.

Eunsook wraps her arms around her, sends him a smile and nods.

“I’d like that. You better be a good masseur, my feet deserve the utmost respect after having walked so far.” She grins and Minseok is left staring at her as she walks down the street. She turns around to look at him when she’s a few metres ahead and sends him a large smile. “Come on, silly. I don’t know the way.” She reaches a hand out towards him and Minseok inhales deeply, not knowing he’d held his breath, before he jogs towards her and grabs her hand. He pulls her in the right direction and her laughter rings towards the night sky. Minseok is in love and he is in so much trouble.

\---

Mondays are outpatient clinic days for both Jongdae and Baekhyun, and they’re in the habit these days of making sure their lunch breaks coincide so that they can meet up and eat together. Jongdae finishes with his last patient of the morning on time, shrugs out of his white coat, and messages Baekhyun that he’s on his way up to the plastic surgery department to pick him up. Baekhyun hasn’t replied, or even checked his message, by the time Jongdae has climbed the emergency stairwell from the third floor to the fourth, and he hopes Baekhyun’s clinic isn’t over-running. They only get half an hour for lunch and they’ve planned to go to the toasted sandwich vendor in the park outside the hospital, but it’s a five-minute walk, so even a short delay will mean they’ll have to settle for the boring hospital cafeteria food they eat all the time. Jongdae wants to get outside, too, because this is his favourite time of year. The dense humidity of the hottest months of the year has passed, replaced by the dry, golden warmth that marks the tail end of summer and the beginning of autumn. It’s at this time of year when Jongdae regrets the most that he has to spend most of his days in the stuffy controlled environment of the hospital.

He smiles and greets the plastic surgery receptionist, who recognizes him and sends a cheerful smile back; he’s come here often enough to pick Baekhyun up for their regular clinic day lunch dates.

“Is Dr. Byun still with a patient?” Jongdae asks her, not wanting to interrupt by knocking on Baekhyun’s office door if so.

“No, his last patient left a few minutes ago,” the receptionist tells him, so Jongdae heads on down the corridor, past the patient waiting room and towards Baekhyun’s office. The door is ajar, but when Jongdae puts his head in, he finds that Baekhyun’s office is empty. Puzzled, he turns back into the corridor and pulls out his phone, but there’s still no message from his friend. He’s just about to call Baekhyun when the door to the restroom further up the corridor opens, and he glances up to see Baekhyun coming out. Jongdae puts his phone away again and smiles, but as Baekhyun comes closer, the cheerful greeting he’d been about to call out dies on his lips. Baekhyun’s face is alarmingly pale, and his eyes are darkly shadowed, almost hollow-looking. Jongdae hasn’t seen Baekhyun look this bad in months.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, making a valiant attempt at a smile. “Sorry, did I keep you waiting?” His voice is trembling slightly, and his smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Baekhyun, you look terrible,” Jongdae says bluntly.

“This rude child,” Baekhyun says, mock-offended, but Jongdae is too alarmed to let it slide.

“No, really. Are you sick?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, then proceeds to make a liar of himself by giving a convulsive shiver. He looks nauseous, Jongdae realises. He recognises the expression from university, when Baekhyun had still been in denial about how much of a lightweight he was when it came to alcohol. Jongdae had gotten pretty good at telling when a drunk Baekhyun was about to hurl.

He takes Baekhyun’s arm to steady him and puts the back of his other hand to Baekhyun’s forehead, but doesn’t find the feverish heat he’d more than half-expected. Instead, Baekhyun feels cold, and clammy with it.

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun says, but he leans against Jongdae with a slight sigh, resting his head on his shoulder. Jongdae puts his arm around him automatically, his worry only increasing.

“Come on, Baek, don’t be like this. I can see at a glance you’re not fine. Did you throw up?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, pulling away again. “I’m a bit stuffy, maybe. I just need some fresh air.”

Jongdae keeps hold of Baekhyun’s elbow as they walk to the elevators. He looks truly awful, and he walks a little unsteadily, like he’s slightly dizzy. He’s obviously unwell, even if he’s trying to deny it, but Jongdae doesn’t want to press the subject. Baekhyun is so sensitive about anything to do with his health these days, and the last thing Jongdae wants is for Baekhyun to push him away again. All the same, if he doesn’t get any better outside, he thinks he might have to strongly suggest Baekhyun takes the afternoon off. Nobody should be working looking like they’re about to either throw up or pass out at any moment, even if it’s only outpatient clinic day.

They cross the foyer and the front doors slide open for them. The fresh air outside feels like a breath of life after being stuck in the hospital all morning, with its ever-present smell of cleaning chemicals and sickly-sweet air freshener. The sunshine caresses Jongdae’s skin, and a cool breeze plays through both of their hair as they go down the steps and cross the carpark towards Hangang Park. The sun sparkles off the ripples the breeze is making in the river across the grassy areas, reflecting the blue sky. It’s beautiful, but Jongdae is too concerned about his friend to really notice.

“Our new chief started last week,” he tells Baekhyun, glancing sidelong at him to gauge his appearance. In the bright sunlight he looks washed-out and still worryingly hollow around the eyes, but not quite as sickly as he’d done under the indoor lights.

“Oh, really? What’s he like?” Baekhyun’s voice sounds faint despite the attempt at taking an interest, and Jongdae’s concern only heightens. The toasted sandwich stand they’d intended on going to is a couple of minutes’ brisk walk away, and he’s suddenly sure Baekhyun isn’t going to make it. He needs to get him sitting down. He guides him over to the nearest park bench at the side of the pathway.

“Let’s sit for a bit,” he says, holding Baekhyun’s arms to help him down onto the bench, then sitting down next to him. Baekhyun leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head low, and Jongdae puts a cautious hand on his back.

“Tell me about your new chief,” Baekhyun says, shivering under Jongdae’s hand.

Jongdae bites his lip, but obeys, telling Baekhyun about Dr. Kang Sangshik. He’s an accomplished urogynaecologist in his fifties who’s worked at several prestigious hospitals over his career, both in Korea and in the United Kingdom, where he’d spent a decade at a private women’s hospital in London. They were lucky to get him, according to their temporary chief Dr. Jung, who’d given Jongdae and the rest of the Hangang obstetrics and gynaecology team the good news a couple of weeks ago. Dr. Jung had shown Dr. Kang the ropes in the ob-gyn department last week, and has now gone back to his regular position as chief of the infectious diseases department.

“He seems very capable, very on top of things already,” Jongdae says, rubbing Baekhyun’s back in small, gentle circles. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know him properly yet, but Hongki said he’ll organise team drinks at the end of the week. It’ll be good for the whole team to do something together. We got two new residents last month, and Dr. Jeon from the provincial hospital finally joined us two weeks ago. Our team has more than doubled in size this year.”

“You needed it, with how ridiculously understaffed you guys were at the start of the year,” Baekhyun says. “I’m glad Dr. Kang seems good.” He sits upright slowly, leaning against the back of the bench.

“You can stay here while I get us something to eat, if you want,” Jongdae says. “What do you feel like?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Don’t bother getting me anything. I’ve been throwing up anything I eat for the past few days, it’s not worth it. You get something though. I’ll wait here.”

“Baekhyun! You said you weren’t sick!” Jongdae is unable to keep his worry from his voice any longer. He turns on the seat to make eye contact with him. “Look, I know you don’t like talking about this kind of thing, but I need you to talk to me. You know why.” He looks steadily at Baekhyun. He’s not going to back down on this. There’s silence for a few seconds, until eventually Baekhyun sighs and looks away.

“Fine. It’s discontinuation syndrome, okay? I’m in withdrawal.”

Jongdae ignores the cranky tone to Baekhyun’s voice, understanding finally dawning as he aligns his symptoms with those of antidepressant discontinuation syndrome. Nausea, dizziness, cold sweats, irritability - it all fits.

“You’re coming off your antidepressants?” he asks, wondering whether he should be congratulating Baekhyun or worrying. It’s fantastic if Baekhyun is well enough to come off his antidepressants, of course, but Jongdae hadn’t known Baekhyun had come to that point yet - and besides that, it’s clear that the withdrawal symptoms are putting him through the wringer. “Isn’t there anything your psychiatrist can give you to help with the discontinuation symptoms?”

“They’ll go away soon enough,” Baekhyun says. “I am tapering down, but the type of antidepressant I’m on has a short half-life, so it’s tricky to balance the rate it leaves my system. It doesn’t help that I’m as much of a lightweight with medication as I am with alcohol.” He looks back at Jongdae, giving him a small smile. “I’ll be fine soon. I just have to get through a few more days of this. The symptoms shouldn’t last more than a couple of weeks or so.”

“All the same, you should really rest at home,” Jongdae says. “You don’t look good at all. Were you seeing patients like this?”

“It’s only outpatients,” Baekhyun says. “I can handle it, Jongdae. I don’t need any more exceptions made for me.” There’s a stubborn set to his exhausted features that Jongdae knows only too well. He sighs.

“Okay. I trust you to know your limits,” he says. He’s not really sure he actually does, but he knows it’s what Baekhyun needs to hear right now. As he’d hoped, Baekhyun relaxes a little.

“Thanks,” he says. “I will be fine soon, I promise. And then no more antidepressants, Jongdae!” He looks at Jongdae hopefully, and Jongdae can’t help but smile.

“That’s wonderful,” he says. “I’m really happy for you, Baekhyun, truly,” and Baekhyun’s smile touches his eyes for the first time that day.

Jongdae leaves Baekhyun on the bench and heads into the nearby convenience store instead of walking to the sandwich stand, where he finds some bottled ginger tea and a packet of plain crackers for Baekhyun, and picks up a bento box from the prepared food refrigerator for himself. Baekhyun sips slowly on the tea as Jongdae eats, seeming to perk up a little as the liquid gets into his system. Jongdae hopes he’s been trying to stay hydrated, at least, even if he can’t keep solids down. He wants to ask Baekhyun if he’s been drinking enough, but he forces himself not to. He needs to show Baekhyun that he trusts him to take care of himself.

They talk about Baekhyun’s options for advanced fellowship courses next year after he’s passed his exam, and then about Chorong and Bodeul’s big taekwondo tournament coming up next month, the junior regional championships. Chorong has recently earned her blue stripe, and according to her instructor she has a chance of qualifying for the junior nationals if she does well at the regionals.

“That’s awesome,” Baekhyun says. “Do they need volunteers for regionals? I got my umpire’s certificate when I was on the university team. I can definitely umpire kids’ sparring matches.”

“I’m sure they do,” Jongdae says. “They’re always desperate for volunteers who know what they’re doing. The kids would love it if you were umpiring, you’re their favourite uncle. I’ll give you the instructor’s number.”

“I should get into training again,” Baekhyun muses. “Lu Han keeps teasing me about being unfit and he’s obsessed with sports, I need to keep up. Maybe I’ll dust off my dobok and come along to one of the adult’s classes.”

Jongdae agrees with this idea enthusiastically. The fact that Baekhyun is taking an interest in things despite currently feeling unwell from discontinuation syndrome allays his worry considerably. He should trust Baekhyun’s psychiatrist, he realises. She wouldn’t take him off his medication if he wasn’t ready.

He checks his watch and finds that they only have seven minutes to get back and be ready to start their afternoon patients. He’s only gotten through two-thirds of his bento box, but there’s nothing he can do about the time, so he reluctantly tosses the box with the last of the food into the nearby rubbish bin. Baekhyun has gotten through most of his ginger tea and managed a couple of crackers. They stand up and start to head back to the hospital, still talking about taekwondo. They make it back into the hospital foyer and are nearly at the elevators when Baekhyun suddenly stops walking. Jongdae turns back to look at him and dismay immediately jolts through him. He knows that look on Baekhyun’s face only too well.

“Dae, I…” Baekhyun starts faintly.

“Okay, I know, I got you. Just hang on a bit longer.” He wraps an arm around Baekhyun and hurries him into the nearest bathroom. The moment they’re through the door Baekhyun pulls away from him and lurches into the nearest stall, where he violently throws up the ginger drink and the couple of crackers he’s just managed to eat. Once that’s out he dry-heaves repeatedly, body convulsing in silent spasms. He’s bringing up nothing, but his body is convulsing so hard he’s not even able to take breaths between the spasms.

“God, Baekhyun...” Jongdae hangs onto the back of his shirt to keep him from falling, feeling desperately sorry for him. “It's okay, you'll be okay. It’ll be over soon,” he repeats as calmly as he can.

It takes Baekhyun several minutes to stop dry-heaving. When he finally does, Jongdae catches him as he slumps, propping him up against the wall of the toilet stall, then hurrying to wet some paper towels. When he gets back Baekhyun is crying, tears running down his face as his chest heaves to regain his breath. Jongdae wipes his mouth and face carefully, then wraps his arms around him and pulls his head to his shoulder. He strokes Baekyun’s hair and hums softly to him, like he does with his children when they’re sick, and feels Baekhyun’s sobs slowly fade.

“This really sucks,” Baekhyun says weakly when he can speak again.

“I think we need to take you to the ED,” Jongdae says gently. “If you can’t even keep down fluids you’re probably dehydrated. We’ll get you some IV fluids and they can give you some meclizine or something to help with the nausea.”

“I have patients,” Baekhyun whispers.

“You can’t see them like this,” Jongdae says. “I’ll stop by your department and let your chief know. She’ll sort it out. That’s not our responsibility, remember?” he smiles at Baekhyun, reminding him of Baekhyun telling him the same thing a couple of months ago.

He gets Baekhyun slowly to his feet and helps him across the foyer and into the ED with a sense of deja vu. A few months ago, it had been Baekhyun helping him in the same way, when Jongdae had stubbornly tried to push through at the cost of his health. Baekhyun leans on him heavily, and looks ill enough when they come in that Aecha at the triage station finds a bed in the emergency ward for him immediately. Jongdae helps Baekhyun lie down, knowing there’ll probably be a bit of a wait until a resident is free to assess him.

“Shall I call Chanyeol to come pick you up?” he asks. “He’s not on shift today, right?”

“No,” Baekhyun says. “No, don’t. I’ll...I’ll call him myself, later, if I don’t feel well enough to take a taxi.”

“Okay,” Jongdae says. He’s getting jittery, because he’s already ten minutes late back to work. He wants to stay with Baekhyun, at least until he’s been seen, but he knows the ED staff will take care of him. He says as much to Baekhyun, who smiles up at him weakly.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just stupidly easily affected by medication, is all,” he says. “Go back to work. I’m sorry for making you late.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jongdae says. “It’s not your fault. You should tell your psychiatrist you’re getting such severe symptoms, though. She might want to taper you more slowly.”

Baekhyun turns his head away, but nods. Jongdae hesitates, then steels himself and turns to go, but just as he’s turning away he feels a cold hand catch at his wrist. He turns back to Baekhyun immediately.

“What is it? Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks, wondering whether he can call Hongki or Nara and ask them to take his first couple of outpatients.

“No, I just…” Baekhyun starts, then bites his lip. “Jongdae, you won’t tell anyone why I’m sick, will you? Not many people know I’m on antidepressants, and it’s embarrassing...”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Jongdae says reassuringly, though his heart is sinking. Being on antidepressants isn’t something to be embarrassed about, but now is not the time to open that can of worms, not when he’s late for work, and Baekhyun is too sick right now to be discussing difficult topics anyway. “I’ll tell your department you have a stomach bug, is that okay?”

Baekhyun nods, letting go of his wrist. “Thank you for looking after me,” he says, closing his eyes.

“You’ve done the same for me, haven’t you?” Jongdae tells him, letting his smile show in his voice. “I’m just returning the favour.”

Baekhyun smiles a little in return, but doesn’t open his eyes, and Jongdae reluctantly leaves him. He hurries to the nearest phone, where he first calls Baekhyun’s department receptionist and informs them of the situation, then calls Changying at his own reception and tells her that he’ll be back up in a couple of minutes.

By the time he gets back to his department he’s nearly 15 minutes late. It’s not that bad - he’d had much worse delays earlier in the year when they’d not had enough staff and he’d sometimes had to leave during clinic hours to see emergency patients - but he never likes the thought of his patients having to wait any longer than they’ve already been doing, and the knock-on effect means that every single patient is going to have a delay this afternoon. He might be able to make up a few minutes here or there if he’s lucky, but he’s always more likely to run over with patients than under. He’ll skip his afternoon break if things get too bad this afternoon. Thinking of all this, he walks past the waiting room area and up to the reception desk. Changying glances up as he approaches, concern on her face.

“Is Dr. Byun alright?” she asks.

“Yes, he will be,” Jongdae says. “He just needs some fluids and rest. Can you give me two minutes to get myself sorted before you send my first patient through?”

“Sure,” Changying says. “Chief Kang was here before, he wanted to talk to you - oh, here he is now.” Jongdae looks around as the door to the shared workroom across the hallway opens and the new chief comes out and approaches the reception desk. Dr. Kang is a tall, heavyset man, and Jongdae has to look up to meet his eyes. He smiles at the older doctor, but Dr. Kang just eyes him sternly, not responding to Jongdae’s smile at all, and Jongdae’s smile fades, replaced by uncertainty and a little dismay.

“Changying said you wanted to see me? How can I help?” he asks as politely as he can.

Dr. Kang sends a significant glance at the clock. “I don’t know how things have been running here before,” he says, “but I’m afraid I can’t tolerate this kind of tardiness while I’m in charge. You’re fifteen minutes late, Dr. Kim.”

“I - yes, I know I am. I’m sorry about that,” Jongdae says, heart sinking as he tries to keep meeting Dr. Kang’s eyes and not instinctively lower his head. It’s true that he’s late, but he has a good reason. He couldn’t have just left Baekhyun in that state. He doesn’t have to react submissively when he hasn’t done anything wrong, even though the conditioning forced into him first by his uncle and then reinforced by Chief Seo wants him to. “My friend - a colleague - became unwell over lunch and I had to -”

Dr. Kang cuts him off with a raised hand, eyebrows lowering. “I don’t want excuses. The fact is that you’re extremely late and now all your clinic appointments are going to overrun. You’re throwing out a whole afternoon’s schedule, and maybe you think outpatients aren’t so important, but tardiness is a slippery slope, Dr. Kim. When it starts to creep into things with a time constraint like planned surgeries, or responding to calls from the labour ward or emergency department, it becomes a real issue.”

A hollow feeling opens up inside Jongdae as Dr. Kang continues, not giving him a chance to answer as he delivers an impromptu but very thorough lecture on the importance of punctuality. Confusion and embarrassment fight for precedence as the older doctor continues to lecture him, and he can’t help the way his head lowers anymore, nor the way his shoulders curl in a little under Dr Kang’s tirade. It seems much harder to hold onto his composure than it should be. He finds himself pleading internally for it to stop, to be over, which is ridiculous, because Dr. Kang isn’t even yelling at him. He’s talking sternly, yes, but very rationally and under control. Jongdae isn’t a child. He shouldn’t be getting upset about this kind of thing. The worst of it is that he actually agrees with everything Dr. Kang is saying, but the new chief seems to have come to the conclusion that Jongdae doesn’t care about the patients having to wait and that he puts his personal affairs first, which is not what Jongdae does at all.

He can see Changying sending him worried glances from the corner of his eye. He tries to straighten his shoulders. Dr. Kang is not being physically abusive or emotionally manipulative, like Dr. Heo had been. Everything he’s saying makes sense and Jongdae agrees with it - but somehow, Jongdae feels threatened, much more so than he’d ever felt with Dr. Heo. Maybe it’s because Dr. Heo was female, and a little smaller than Jongdae. Even when she’d slapped him or shoved his head against the wall, he’d been allowing her to do it. He’d always known he would be able to defend himself against her if he really needed to. This situation, with a much taller, much heavier man looming over him, makes him feel strangely shivery inside. Jongdae does not easily get scared, but he thinks it is fear he feels rising up inside him now, against all logic, and Jongdae does not have many memories of his childhood, but now he’s suddenly, vividly reminded of being a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, and coming home late from school one day, and -

No. No need to go there. He already knows his uncle brought him up strictly, perhaps a little too strictly for Jongdae, who had been a sensitive child under the wild hyperactivity his parents had not known what to do with. He knows that’s why he tends to submit too easily to people who have power over him. There’s no need to dwell on it.

He clasps his hands and nods at every point Dr. Kang makes, trying to express his acceptance of the lecture, so that Dr. Kang will see that he understands. He’s getting edgy, too, among the humiliation of being publicly scolded and the irrational fear he’s trying to fight back, because the longer Dr. Kang goes on, the more Jongdae’s outpatient clinic patients are being delayed - but interrupting the tirade to say so would be unspeakably rude.

Finally the older doctor winds down, and Jongdae bows once he’s sure the lecture is over.

“I’m very sorry, Chief Kang,” he says quietly. “I understand. I was wrong to be late. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Dr. Kang says. “You better get going before things get any more behind schedule. I wanted to see you, but it’ll have to wait until your clinic is over now. Come and see me in my office when you’re done. I’ll be here until seven.”

“Yes, Chief,” Jongdae says, and watches through his eyelashes as Dr. Kang turns and makes his way down the corridor to his office, closing the door behind him.

“Well,” Changying says. She sounds angry, and Jongdae glances at her, surprised. The small Chinese receptionist is usually nothing but smiles. “That was rather uncalled for. He didn’t even let you explain!”

Jongdae sighs. “He has a point, though. I was late, and it was for a personal reason.”

“It was completely unfair of him to lecture you like that, and in front of other staff, too,” Changying tells him, rather fiercely. “He spent five minutes beating you up over something that wasn’t even your fault. He doesn’t even know you and he’s making assumptions over one single incident. It’s not right to treat you like that.”

Jongdae feels a little relieved that Changying, too, thinks that Dr. Kang was a bit more severe than necessary, that it isn’t just him making a big deal out of nothing, but he’s more worried about the fact that he’s managed to make a bad impression on his new chief right at the start. And what on earth could Dr. Kang want to talk to him about? Now he’s going to have that hanging over him all afternoon.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” he tells Changying. “I better get going, I’m so behind.”

“No thanks to him,” Changying mutters to herself, and Jongdae walks towards his office, feeling very unhappy. Apart from the obvious exception of Chief Heo, he’s used to people liking him and trusting him, and seeing him as the conscientious person he knows he is. Being so unexpectedly and unfairly scolded by a person he wants to develop a good professional relationship with has really thrown him.

It’s okay, he tells himself as he quickly shrugs into his white coat and opens up the patient record system on the computer to his next patient’s records. Dr. Kang is just doing his job as the chief of department, wanting to make sure things run smoothly. He isn’t manipulative or aggressive or abusive like Chief Heo was. Jongdae will just have to work hard and prove by his actions that he does take punctuality and patient care seriously.

He puts his worries aside as his first patient comes in, giving her all his attention as he always does, and works as efficiently as he can to try not to let the now nearly half-hour delay grow any longer. He skips his usual afternoon ten-minute break, and manages to finish up at twenty past five. Usually he’d spend half an hour or so catching up on his documentation after he’s finished with patients, but today he leaves it, not wanting to keep Dr. Kang waiting for him any longer than he has to. He’ll come back and do the documentation after he finds out what the chief wants.

He quickly checks that his hair is tidy and his shirt collar is straight under his white coat before heading down the corridor towards the chief’s office. Changying sends him a smile as he passes, and Jongdae smiles back with what he hopes comes across as confidence.

He knocks on Dr. Kang’s door and hears the older man’s deep voice calling him in. He steps inside and closes the door behind him, then approaches the desk. Dr. Kang looks up and returns Jongdae’s hesitant smile with a friendly one of his own, and relief washes through Jongdae at the sight of it. Hopefully the chief is going to put the incident earlier behind him. Maybe they can make a fresh start.

“I’ve been looking through the education calendar,” Dr. Kang tells him, gesturing for Jongdae to take the seat across the desk from him. He spins one of his screens halfway around so that they can both see it. “We’ve been asked to provide a speaker for the October and December sessions, and I’d like you to prepare a 20-minute presentation for each of them. The topic for the October session is foetal heart rate and uterine contraction monitoring, and for December it’s obstetrical and postpartum haemorrhage. I’m aware that you’ve done good work in both those areas, so I don’t think it will be difficult for you to prepare something appropriate.”

Jongdae’s fingers have gone tight, gripping his knees hard through the fabric of his slacks. He feels almost dizzy with dismay. He’d been ready to do anything to put himself back in Dr. Kang’s good books, but of all the things Dr. Kang could have asked him to do, it had to be the one thing that Jongdae really has serious trouble with. Even Dr. Heo hadn’t made him do presentations unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Watching Jongdae stammer and tremble his way through a presentation is torture for everyone involved.

“I - um,” he says, and Dr. Kang’s eyes snap away from the screen and to him, the pleasant expression fading as he raises an eyebrow. Jongdae starts to sweat. He takes a careful, steadying breath.

“Well?” Dr. Kang asks when Jongdae doesn’t speak immediately. His voice has gone severe again, and Jongdae knows it’s because he should have agreed right away.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do the work,” Jongdae says rather desperately, “but the thing is, I have a problem with giving presentations. I really struggle to speak in front of an audience, and it’s not great for the people watching, who are trying to learn.” Admitting this is utterly humiliating, but he pushes on, trying not to let it show, speaking as reasonably as he can. “Usually Hongki - Dr. Lee, the fourth-year resident - takes presentations like these. He really enjoys them, so it generally works well for us if he does them, and I always take some of his patients for him so he has time to prepare…” he trails off as Dr. Kang’s face just gets more and more unimpressed.

“You mean you don’t do any presentations at all? Just because you don’t like public speaking?” Dr. Kang shakes his head disapprovingly. “I see now why this hospital was struggling so much with staffing this department. You kids all think you can get away with anything.”

Jongdae is speechless. Dr. Kang continues. “Dr. Kim, this kind of attitude is unacceptable. You’re an attending surgeon, for goodness’ sake, not a stammering intern. Maybe your old chief let you get away with backing out of things you don’t like doing, but I run things differently. Everyone on my staff will pull their own weight. That’s how a team works. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and I hope that weak link isn’t going to turn out to be you.”

“I…” Jongdae starts faintly. Horror is thrumming through him. He feels his pulse on his skin, almost like he has a low-grade fever. Everything is going so wrong and he has no idea what to do about it. “I really…”

“This isn’t a discussion,” Dr. Kang says. “Honestly, Dr. Kim, I’m disappointed. I’ve heard good things about you. I’d hoped you would live up to them. I like to be able to rely on my senior staff.”

Jongdae bows his head. He’s ashamed almost to the point of tears. Everything he’s always tried to be is getting thrown back in his face, and it feels awful. “I’m sorry,” he says. It comes out almost a whisper. “I’ll prepare the presentations. I’ll do my best to be a staff member you can rely on, Chief Kang. I really will.”

“I hope you’ll show me what you’re made of,” Dr. Kang says. He sighs a little. “You’re young, Dr. Kim. This whole team is very young, apart from Dr. Jeon, who I understand only started a few weeks ago, and you all have a lot to learn still. Dr. Jung explained that everyone in this team has put a lot of pressure on you with the understaffing situation. I understand if you’ve had to put your personal needs first. But I hope you’ll be able to look at the wider perspective of the department now. If you trust me and follow my lead, you’ll do fine.”

Jongdae nods hopelessly. He knows there’s nothing he can say. There’s no way to explain himself without directly contradicting his chief, which would be counterproductive, only convincing the older doctor further that Jongdae is a headstrong junior used to getting his own way. He’s managed to give Dr. Kang the impression of a person the exact opposite of what he’s really like, and arguing over it will only make things worse.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises again, standing up to bow. Dr. Kang tells him he’ll email the details of the presentations he needs to prepare and then lets him go. Jongdae retreats down the empty, dim corridor, past the now-empty reception, and back to his office, where he collapses onto his chair and puts his head down on the desk, burying his face in his arms. How could he have screwed things up so badly? He’d truly believed the bad times were over now that Chief Heo was gone, and now he’s managed to get himself straight into another situation where his direct manager disapproves of him.

But it’s really not so bad, he tells himself a little desperately. Dr. Kang is just doing his job. He’s setting things up so the department can run well, and it’s Jongdae who isn’t fitting in, who isn’t living up to expectations. He forces himself to think back over Dr. Kang’s words, and uncertainty and self-doubt makes itself known. Could it be possible that Jongdae thinks himself different to how he really is? Do his actions not back up his personal beliefs? Is he fooling himself by thinking he’s a responsible, conscientious person? He doesn’t think so, but the fact is that he’s managed, in just a single day, to give Dr. Kang a terribly wrong impression of his motives. Jongdae can’t help worrying that maybe there really is something in what Dr. Kang is saying.

Perhaps he should have called the department earlier, as soon as Baekhyun had gotten sick. He’d had his hands so full helping Baekhyun that he hadn’t even thought of it, but he should have called Hongki or Nara and asked them to take his first patient for him. And he shouldn’t have tried to get out of doing the presentations. He is being pathetic, preferring to avoid the situations he doesn’t like rather than face up to them. Shame unfurls inside his chest. Dr. Kang is right. Avoiding situations where he’d have to speak in public isn’t helping Jongdae get over his difficulty at all, and even if Hongki does enjoy giving presentations, that doesn’t mean Jongdae should just lump the younger resident with everything.

He sits up and rubs his eyes fiercely. He’s not getting anything done sulking like a child who’s upset over a well-deserved scolding. He forces himself to focus on finishing the documentation he’d left earlier, and then he opens his emails and looks at the information Dr. Kang has for his presentation. The October education session is three weeks away. Plenty of time for Jongdae to prepare something, especially given that it’s a topic he knows so much about. If he creates the presentation as soon as possible, and spends the next three weeks practicing at every possible opportunity, maybe it won’t be so bad.

He sends Ahreum a quick message to let her know he’ll be late home, pulls his largest notebook towards him, and starts to draft an outline. Anxiety runs like tiny needles over his skin as he bends his head and scribbles out his ideas rapidly onto the paper, but he forces himself to breathe calmly, to not let his legs bounce in agitation. He can ask Chanyeol and Baekhyun to help him. He knows his friends will be willing to help. They’re both good speakers, they’re sure to have some tips for him. It’ll be okay. If he really does his absolute best, it’ll be okay. It has to be.

He refuses to let himself think about all the other times that doing his absolute best just hasn’t been enough.


	3. September 23rd

It’s a little past five in the morning when Kyungsoo is woken by his cellphone ringing on the bedside table in the radiology call room. He sits up and fumbles blearily for the phone, accepting the call and holding it to his ear while he gropes for his glasses with the other hand.

“On-call radiologist,” he croaks, uncaring that he sounds like he’s just woken up. He has, after all. The emergency department resident on the other end tells him they have a hit-and-run victim and passes on the basic details of her age, history and suspected injuries. They’ve already ruled out abdominal bleeding via FAST scan - the ED staff can perform the rapid ultrasound on their own without waking Kyungsoo up - but the resident is worried about the patient’s head injury, and wants a CT scan to confirm there’s no significant head trauma that might need neurosurgical intervention.

“We incidentally discovered that she’s pregnant while doing the FAST scan, so we got an obstetric consult,” the resident tells him. “Dr. Kim thinks she’s around nine weeks. The patient wasn’t even aware of being pregnant. So far she hasn’t shown any symptoms of traumatic miscarriage, but Dr. Kim will accompany her to radiology just to be safe.”

“Sounds good,” Kyungsoo says, pushing his blankets aside and shoving his feet into his rubber slides. “Send her up.”

He wakes up the radiographer, then wanders out into the department and turns on the monitors for the computers he’ll need to view the CT head scan. It’s been a quiet night and he’s gotten a solid five hours of sleep, unusually good for a night shift, so it’s not too hard to wake himself up along with the monitors. The patient arrives a couple of minutes later on a wheeled bed, accompanied by an orderly and the on-call obstetrician. Kyungsoo sighs a little when he sees that this particular Dr. Kim is, as he’d suspected, Jongdae. It’s probably coincidence that they so often seem to be on night shifts at the same time, but sometimes he can’t help wondering whether the other man ever sleeps. Jongdae smiles a greeting at Kyungsoo as they take the patient into the scanning room. She is conscious and appears calm and stable.

Once the patient is in place, they clear the room and the radiographer takes the images. Jongdae keeps his eyes on the patient through the viewing window. Kyungsoo is pleased the emergency department resident thought to call him. They’ve been a lot better with this kind of thing in the last few months, he realises. Less pointless requests for imaging, more consulting with him rather than just ordering, and he hasn’t had a repeat of an unstable patient being sent through without medical supervision. It seems Minseok has finally drummed some sense into his staff. Jongdae’s presence is reassuring in case the patient does suddenly start to have issues with her pregnancy due to the impact trauma, though she probably would have shown signs of it already by now, if she was going to.

The nurse and orderly head back into the room to collect the patient. Jongdae stays beside him, glancing at the screens when the images come up, then looking back at the patient. Kyungsoo carefully reads the image slices, following his usual process and clearing each system methodically.

“How’s it looking?” Jongdae asks when he’s looked through all the slices.

“No brain swelling or bleeding, no skull fractures,” Kyungsoo replies. “Everything looks fine.”

“Oh, good. No surgery then. Much safer for the baby if we can avoid general anaesthetic.”

Kyungsoo nods and calls the ED to let them know the result. Jongdae gestures for his phone when he’s done talking, and Kyungsoo goes back to the computer and describes the images in the system while Jongdae talks, one ear taking in the obstetrician telling the ED resident that the patient is stable and it’s been long enough since her accident that he’s reasonably certain she won’t miscarry due to the impact trauma, so he won’t need to accompany her back to the ED. She’ll probably be able to go home with painkillers for her bruises and minor abrasions. She’s very lucky, Kyungsoo thinks.

With all his tasks regarding the patient done, he switches the monitors off and takes his cellphone back from Jongdae. He looks tired despite the smile he gives Kyungsoo, and there’s a worried upwards slant to his eyebrows that Kyungsoo doubts is due to the patient he’s just cleared.

“Busy night?” he asks.

“I’ve been in the labour ward all night,” Jongdae tells him. “Three back-to-back deliveries, and then this call. No time to sleep.”

“You going to get some now?”

“No, it's already morning,” Jongdae says, glancing at the clock which is ticking close to 6 am. “There’s only an hour left of my shift anyway.”

“Same here,” Kyungsoo says. “Want a coffee?”

“God, yes,” Jongdae says fervently, so they go down to the radiology break room and Kyungsoo makes coffee for them both in the mismatched mugs while Jongdae flops down on one of the couches around the coffee table. By the time Kyungsoo brings the drinks over, Jongdae has pulled a sheaf of what looks to Kyungsoo like hand-written cue cards from the pocket of his coat, looking rather battered around the edges, and is frowning down at them, lips moving silently as his eyes flick along the lines of cramped handwriting. Kyungsoo puts Jongdae’s coffee on the coffee table in front of him and sits beside him, leaning over to read what’s on the cue cards. Fetal heartbeat monitoring, he recognizes the information easily.

“What’s this for?”

“I’m speaking at the continuing education session next month,” Jongdae says. “I have to do the December one as well. I want to memorize my whole presentation, because I’m terrible at them and the better I know the material, the less chance I have of screwing up.” He looks up at that, meeting Kyungsoo’s eyes with a rueful smile. “You probably remember me trying to present that case at the Morbidity and Mortality conference last year.”

Kyungsoo does remember, very clearly. It had been painful to watch. He’d had difficulty right from the start, and as the presentation went on his breathing had gotten messed up and his voice had begun to shake so badly that Kyungsoo had thought he was going to break down and cry in front of the whole lecture theatre. The idea of Jongdae going through that on a regular basis is alarming, not to mention how awkward it is as an audience member to watch someone struggle so badly.

“You told me back then you have difficulties with public speaking,” he says. “Why are you doing education sessions?”

Jongdae bites his lip. “My new chief asked me to. I couldn’t really refuse.”

“I’m sure if you explained, though, he’d understand?”

Jongdae gives a hollow laugh. “I tried, but he just said I can’t back out of things I don’t like doing, that I have to pull my weight on the team. He’s right, too. I shouldn’t make other people take up my slack just because I find something hard.”

“If anyone pulls their weight on that team, it’s you,” Kyungsoo says, feeling rather heated about anyone even implying that Jongdae doesn’t do his fair share of work. It’s so blatantly untrue that it makes him kind of mad. “It’s not fair for him to make judgements like that when he doesn’t even know you. He doesn’t have any idea what you went through this year trying to keep your department running.”

Jongdae sighs. “Maybe not, but the fact is that I have to give these presentations. He’ll never respect me if I don’t face up to it.”

Kyungsoo frowns. The situation doesn’t seem right to him, but there’s really not anything he can do but sympathise. He’s not even in Jongdae’s department.

“Would you mind if I practiced a bit on you?” Jongdae asks after a few moments of silence.

“Sure, go for it,” Kyungsoo says. He sips his coffee while Jongdae stands up and goes to the other side of the table to face him, and begins reciting the information that is evidently written on his cue cards. He seems okay with presenting the information just to Kyungsoo, though he doesn’t make eye contact and his speech is rather jerky, like he’s focusing on getting individual words out rather than the meanings behind the sentences. He’s obviously memorized almost all of it already. The way Jongdae has structured the information and the things he’s included are interesting and useful, but he’s being let down by reading it out so robotically.

Jongdae finishes up and takes a deep, slightly shaky breath, looking anxiously at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo smiles at him as reassuringly as he can. “It’s great,” he says. “Really good stuff. You obviously know the material well. It’d help if you made eye contact or used gestures, but it’s not necessary if you’re not comfortable doing that.”

“It’s okay when I’m just talking to you,” Jongdae says, dropping back down next to Kyungsoo and reaching for his now-cold coffee. “It’s when I have more than four or five pairs of eyes on me at once that I start to lose it, and there’s going to be about 60 people at this education session.”

“Maybe get a few more people together to practice on,” Kyungsoo suggests. “You often hang out with Chanyeol and Baekhyun at lunchtimes, right? Tell me when you guys are together and I’ll come too, and you can practice it on us over lunch. I know Minseok would be happy to help too, I’ll ask him.”

“Oh, that would be amazing. Thank you so much,” Jongdae says, looking so intensely grateful that Kyungsoo almost feels guilty. It’s such a simple thing to offer, it doesn’t deserve this much gratitude. “If you’re sure you don’t mind giving up your lunch break.”

“Of course not. We can still eat while you’re talking, anyway.”

“True,” Jongdae says, a smile flashing over his face. “Anyway, enough about me. Are you doing anything for Chuseok?”

“I have today and tomorrow off. Both sides of the family are from the Jirisan area. We’re going to drive down this morning and stay the night with my grandparents, and then stop by my grandmother’s grave to do the rites on the way back.”

“Oh, Jirisan is lovely,” Jongdae says wistfully. “I love the mountains. Are things any better with your mother?”

“I’m not really sure,” Kyungsoo says. “I haven’t actually seen her since the whole shaman debacle, but she hasn’t said anything to me related to marriage since then. I think I’m going to talk to her about it, though, if I can find a good time this holiday.”

“Are you going to tell her you’re asexual?”

“No. I doubt she’d understand, and the label seems unnecessary. I just hope we can come to an understanding that she stops trying to set me up, lets me live my own life, and maybe drops some of her expectations. I’d like her to understand that I don’t need a romantic or sexual partner to be happy, but that might be pushing it.”

“I hope it goes well,” Jongdae says. “You’re lucky to have parents who care. It’s sad that you feel uncomfortable with them because of this.”

Kyungsoo looks at Jongdae, rather surprised at the melancholy he hears in his voice. He feels like that statement has more weight behind it than simple concern for a friend. He tries to remember if Jongdae has ever mentioned his parents to him, and draws a blank.

“What are you doing for Chuseok?” he asks.

“I’m working the nights so I can spend the days with the kids while they’re off school,” Jongdae says. “Ahreum’s parents are here in Seoul and they’re not traditional, so we don’t have to do any rituals or go to ancestral lands. We’ll just take the kids over to their house on Friday. I think Ahreum has some activities planned too, not sure what. I’ll just go along with it.” He laughs, swallowing another mouthful of cold coffee.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Kyungsoo says, and Jongdae gives him one of his sweet smiles.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at getting by on a couple of hours’ sleep. Lots of practice.” Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t push it.

Jongdae gives up halfway through his coffee - it can’t be pleasant cold - and heads back up to his department, and Kyungsoo busies himself getting ready to hand over to the day staff who’ll be arriving soon. Once clocked out, he heads home on the subway. He has a couple of hours before his parents come to pick him up so they can drive down to Jirisan to his father’s parents’ house, and he has to shower and throw together an overnight bag.

It’s been over a month since he’s seen his parents. It’s not really that long - he’s an independent adult, after all - but Kyungsoo feels like there’s something heavy in the air between them when he comes down to where they’re waiting in the drop-off zone in front of his apartment building, dressed in his most comfortable jeans that have gone soft with too much washing and a plaid shirt. Kyungsoo’s mom gives him her usual squeezing hug, but doesn’t bring up anything he doesn’t want to talk about. Maybe Kyungsoo is imagining it, because he’s feeling awkward, and - not anxious, exactly, but apprehensive about the promise he’s made to himself to bring up the topic at some point during the holiday. He’d always rather let sleeping dogs lie, brush problems under the rug and pretend they don’t exist, but he remembers clearly what Jongdae had said to him after the shaman incident, and the impact those words had made. He can’t expect his parents to know how he feels unless he tells them, and he doesn’t want this rift between them to grow until it’s a vast chasm that can’t be bridged.

After he’s finished answering the usual questions about how work is going and whether he’s had any opportunities to advance in his career, he sits quiet in the back of the car, gazing out of the window and listening to the classical CD playing on the car stereo. Unusually, his mother doesn’t ask him if he’s met anyone recently. Kyungsoo remembers again the shock and yes, the worry that had come to her face as he’d refused to stay for the shaman’s psychic reading, or whatever the woman had been going to do for him, and wonders if it’s possible that his uncharacteristic flat refusal to go along with the ridiculousness has actually broken through some of the illusions she’s created around him.

The car ride from Seoul to his mother’s family’s home village in the Jirisan mountains takes about three and a half hours. They leave the city far behind and drive between smaller and smaller towns until they’re surrounded by some of the largest mountains on the Korean peninsula, clad in a thousand shades of green and diminishing into the distance in rows upon rows of misty blue peaks. Kyungsoo opens the window a little and closes his eyes, letting the cool mountain air play across his face. The hours of sleep he missed and the early start this morning catch up with him, and he falls asleep for the last hour or so of the journey, only waking up when his father drives onto the crunching, steeply-inclined gravel driveway of his maternal grandparents’ home.

The house clings to the slopes of a steep hill deep in the Jirisan mountain range. The village is tiny, only a single-lane road leading up the hill with simple houses branching off each side - mostly small farm holdings - and a well-facilitated community centre where the elders mostly spend their days, gossiping, playing go-stop, or relaxing in the massage chairs. There aren’t many people living here under the age of 60. There’s ancestral farm lands surrounding his grandparents’ house too, a couple of steep fields above and below the house itself. The upper slopes are planted with a variety of vegetables and the slopes below hold a small orchard of black chokeberries. Kyungsoo’s grandmother makes a very healthy juice from the chokeberries, terribly bitter, and Kyungsoo resigns himself to swallowing a few shots of it to make her happy before he escapes back to Seoul again.

Three people in their late sixties to early seventies appear on the wooden veranda at the front of the single-storied house at the sound of the car arriving, smiling and waving. They’re his mother’s parents and his father’s father, who lives in the nearest town and has driven over for the holiday. After the required round of hugs and grandparents squeezing his cheeks, Kyungsoo carries their bags inside, and then his mother goes into the kitchen to help his grandmother with the food while his father and two grandfathers talk over homebrewed beer. Kyungsoo looks out of the window at the vegetable plots. He spends the minimum amount of time with the older men he can get away with without being rude before escaping outside. He finds a couple of straw conical hats in one of the sheds and puts one on his head, then heads up the back hill with a bucket to do some weeding and insect-catching. He knows what to do. He usually spends most of his visits here, in the small terraced fields on his own. It’s quiet and peaceful in a way the city never is. Usually he gets his quiet time by shutting the city out, sound-proofing and light-proofing his apartment, but out here, nature is a sanctuary all of its own.

He’s halfway along a row of lettuces, pulling up weeds and squashing the bugs he finds that eat vegetables, when his phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out and finds a message from Baekhyun. Tapping on the notification, he finds it’s a selca taken with one of his CT techs, Chanmi, who’s laughing while Baekhyun sends the camera an expression Kyungsoo can only describe as betrayed. It looks like Baekhyun’s in the radiology department - he can see a glimpse of the smooth white donut of the CT scanner through the window behind them. Kyungsoo blinks, mystified, at the selca, until a moment later a message comes through. I came all the way from plastics to visit you for morning break and you’re not even here, you little traitor! I gave Chanmi your coffee as revenge, I hope you’re super jealous.

Kyungsoo can’t help but smile at the typical Baekhyun dramatics. Plastics is only two floors above radiology, it’s not exactly a mission. Recalling how Baekhyun had teased him about being out in nature at the Busan beach party, he turns the camera on himself and takes a picture of himself under the conical straw hat with the rows of vegetables behind him. He sends the photo to Baekhyun and waits. Seconds later, his phone blows up with excessive punctuation marks and emojis expressing Baekhyun’s shock and great amusement, and Kyungsoo laughs to himself before tucking his phone away again and focusing on the weeding. When he reaches the chilli pepper vines, he finds that they’re ready to harvest, so he spends the rest of the afternoon harvesting them, then cutting them open, deseeding them and spreading them out to dry on the wooden veranda. It takes the entire afternoon, and when he’s done the veranda is more red than the brown of the wood below. His grandmother will make them into gochujang when they’re dry, enough to last the whole year.

The evening goes the same way as every Chuseok in the village goes. The meal is huge, the low table crammed with a vast variety of dishes, and several of his grandparent’s neighbours come over to share, the elders all sitting on the floor and chattering non-stop, reminiscing and drinking makgeolli out of aluminium bowls. Kyungsoo mostly listens, feeling like a child, but it’s not a bad feeling. When the party finally dies down, he lies in his quilts on the heated floor in the same room as his parents, and wonders how it is possible that no difficult subjects have come up for the entire day. It’s practically a miracle.

The next morning, Kyungsoo and his parents go to visit a tiny private temple at the top of another tiny village clinging to the side of another steep hill, half an hour’s drive through the winding mountain roads. It’s a small sub-cult of the Buddhist religion and just two nuns live there, one of them a distant cousin on Kyungsoo’s father’s side. The nuns greet them with their shaven heads and grey robes and beautiful smiles, and feed them citrusy homemade yuja-cheong mixed with Sprite - the juxtaposition between traditional and commercial makes Kyungsoo smile to himself - and black sesame bread. The nuns have a big garden too, even bigger than his grandparents’ land, and rely on volunteers to help them keep it up. They need to plant napa cabbages today, to grow and mature during the frosty mountain winter, and have trays and trays of seedlings ready to go in the ground. Kyungsoo’s father does some maintenance in the temple itself, and Kyungsoo and his mother load up the wheelbarrow with the seedlings and push it up into the terraced back field, where they rip off the black plastic that’s been preparing the ground over summer and start to plant the seedling cabbages.

They crouch opposite each other as they work their way along the furrows, the only words between them about how far the seedlings should be spaced. It’s quiet and beautiful and peaceful in the mountainside temple grounds, and although Kyungsoo would rather not disturb the peace and continue enjoying the refreshing change this makes from being surrounded by technology in the radiology department, he realises that he probably won’t get any better chance than this.

“Can we talk about something?” he asks. He glances up from the seedling he’s patting into the ground and meets his mother’s eyes as she looks up at him. “It’s about...well, I guess it’s kind of about what happened when you wanted me to meet the shaman, last month, and why I reacted the way I did.”

His mother pats the earth around her seedling. “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” she says. She doesn’t meet his eyes, but there’s a note of determination in her voice. “And I think I already know, darling.”

Kyungsoo is taken aback. “You already know?” Has she figured it out on her own, then, just from his reaction at the cafe? “I didn’t expect…” he trails off, scrambling to collect his thoughts. He’s imagined this conversation going in many ways, but this one had never even occurred to him. “Is that why you haven’t asked me anything about...girls and stuff, on this trip?”

His mother looks up to meet his eyes. She looks like she’s nerving herself up to say something difficult, but she’s smiling, too, and it’s a genuine smile, one that touches her eyes and makes the crows-feet at the corners go deep. She reaches out across the furrowed earth and takes his hand. They’re both wearing gardening gloves, so there’s no skin contact, but Kyungsoo is surprised enough at the gesture that it might as well have been. Awareness of the connection of their linked hands shoots up his arm and through his body.

“Yes. I worked it all out, and I’m so sorry, darling,” she says. “All this time I’ve been trying to get you together with a nice girl, but I never dreamed that you might want something different, and so I never saw how unhappy I was making you. Then I brought you to the shaman, and - well, I suppose it was the last straw, wasn’t it? You broke, and I was so shocked by it, because you’re never anything but polite and obedient, going along with whatever I ask of you. But the way you looked at me…you’re always so closed off, but you opened up then. You let me see you, and all I could see was pain, and I’d caused it.” She sighs. “I thought about it a lot after that, and I finally realised why it’s never worked out. Now that I know, I feel terrible for pushing so many girls on you. It’s no wonder you thought you couldn’t say anything. It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not…” Kyungsoo starts, trailing off as he tries to find words. He’s so astonished he can barely think straight, let alone form coherent sentences, but a strange sense of lightness is spreading inside him. He’d expected to have to explain and argue his way through this, to face resistance or even rejection. This is more than he’d ever dared to hope for. “I mean, it’s not all your fault. I never tried to tell you, I just pulled away and hoped my problems would disappear if I ignored them long enough. Then something Jongdae said made me realise that what I was doing wasn’t fair to you. He made me see that I couldn’t expect you to read my mind, and that I was creating a rift between us by not communicating, and I never wanted that.”

“Jongdae,” his mother repeats. There’s a softness to her eyes as she smiles at him. “Is that him?”

Him? Kyungsoo wrinkles his forehead a little. “Jongdae’s an obstetric surgeon at Hangang,” he explains, trying to remember if he’s mentioned Jongdae to his mother before. He doubts it. There’s not often any reason to talk about his colleagues by name to his parents, but maybe he’s said something at some point and forgotten.

“Oh my, another doctor! What’s his surname? What is he like? How old is he, where did he study? Tell me all about Jongdae,” his mother says eagerly. Kyungsoo stares at her, completely mystified. He’s getting a strong suspicion that he’s missing something critical here. He only mentioned Jongdae’s name in passing. Why is she fixating on him?

“Why do you want to know?”

His mother smiles at him. “Of course I want to know all about my son’s boyfriend.”

Kyungsoo loses his balance, toppling backwards from his squat to sit down on the earth with a thud. He barely misses squashing the row of cabbage seedlings behind him, but that’s the last thought in his mind as he stares at his mother’s smiling face. He opens his mouth, but the only sound that comes out is a faint croak. It doesn’t matter, because his mom is going on, and Kyungsoo knows from experience that he won’t get a word in edgewise until she’s said everything she wants to say.

“I support you, darling. I won’t lie, it took me a while to come to terms with it at first, but I did a lot of research - did you know there’s a website for parents of diverse children? - and I talked to the priest about it, and he told me the idea of homosexuality being sinful in and of itself in the Bible is a misinterpretation, and that in Christianity any relationship of mutual love is accepted, and our biology and views of gender make no difference to love. Being homosexual doesn’t change you in any way, and it doesn’t change how I love you either. I know our culture is less accepting of this, in general, compared to some cultures, and I understand why you felt like you had to hide it. I’m so sorry that I’ve been making things even more difficult for you by not showing you any understanding.”

“I...well, thank you for that,” Kyungsoo manages to say. He feels like he’s just been hit very hard in the head, and also like he’s probably going to burst into hysterical giggles at any second. It does make sense, in a way, he supposes. He’s very obviously never been interested in women, so it’s not an illogical conclusion for someone to draw that he might be interested in men. What’s more shocking to him is that his mother, who’s been like a racehorse in blinkers for the past few years, chasing after her ultimate goal of getting him safely married off, had the capacity to even suspect that he could be gay. He would have put it beyond the bounds of possibility. It’s so typical of his mother, though, that once having had the idea, she’s seized the bit between her teeth and bolted with it, jumping to every possible conclusion along the way.

“That’s, um…” he tries again. His thoughts feel like laundry blowing away in a too-strong wind, and he’s having to perform mental gymnastics to catch them all again. “Mom, I’m…I’m impressed that you did all that research and stuff. It means a lot to me that you’re supportive. Some of my friends have suffered so much through being rejected by their families. But -”

“The priest told me about that too,” his mother says earnestly. “It’s appalling. I would never turn on you, darling, I hope you know that, and nor would your father. I made sure of that as soon as I told him, and he supports you too.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth falls open. His mother may have decided to embrace homosexuality, but she obviously hasn’t understood the concept of not outing people. Not only has she apparently told the priest at church he’s gay, she’s told his father - and his father is apparently okay with that - and Kyungsoo isn’t even gay! He doesn’t dare to think of how many of her friends she might have discussed his supposed homosexuality with.

His urge to laugh comes back, and this time he can’t hold it back, and his laughter spills out into the cool mountain air. His shoulders shake with it, and he presses his face into the crook of his elbow to try and control himself. He’d use his hands but they’re still clad in dirty gardening gloves. His mother finally stops talking and gazes at him, looking puzzled.

“Mom,” Kyungsoo says as soon as he has his breath back. He gathers his wits as best he can. “Just - listen to me for a moment, okay? I’m not gay.”

“I can’t wait to meet your boyfriend, he sounds wonderful already, and…” his mother trails off, blinking at him as his words finally sink in. “What?”

“I’m not gay. I don’t have a boyfriend. Kim Jongdae is a colleague and a friend, and he’s also happily married and has three children,” Kyungsoo tells her, unable to stop grinning. Jongdae is going to laugh so hard when he hears about this. “I’m not attracted to men, mom.”

“Then…” his mother looks like he’s turned the world upside down. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not attracted to men, and I’m also not attracted to women,” Kyungsoo says. It’s so much easier to say now that he knows she isn’t going to react homophobically. “I don’t have a desire for romance or sex, and I don’t need a wife, or a husband, if it comes to that, to be happy and fulfilled. It’s not that I don’t feel love - I love people platonically, I love my friends and you and dad, but the idea of being in a romantic or sexual relationship makes me uncomfortable, and it’s always been that way for me. The word for how I identify is asexual. It’s probably on your diversity for parents website somewhere.” He’d told Jongdae he wouldn’t use the label, but his mom has blown all of his expectations out of the water now, by being willing to open her mind to the wider spectrum of possibility. She can handle the label.

“And so,” he continues, “every time you tried to set me up with someone, it made me feel like I was a failure, that I wasn’t good enough for you the way I am. I felt like I was failing you, and hurting you by not giving you grandchildren, and the more you saw it as a problem, like talking about bad luck and thinking I needed to see a shaman, the worse I felt. Because I’m not a problem, mom. I’m just...me.”

It’s one of the longest speeches he’s ever given his life. He closes his mouth and lowers his head, traces his fingers in the fertile earth by his feet. He feels very small, and still a little unsure. She’d prepared herself over the past month or so to hear he had a boyfriend, which had still given her the chance to believe he could be happy with a partner, even if it was of the same sex. She’d still thought she could meet the person he loved, perhaps even looked forward to having a second son to dote on. Now she’s hearing that she’ll never get any of that.

“Well, I’ve never heard of that,” his mother says slowly, “but when I think about you, it makes so much sense.” She smiles at him, and Kyungsoo’s heart gives a little jolting lift, like a mooring rope holding him down has just been released. “You must think I’m crazy, jumping to conclusions like that. I thought I was being so open and understanding, and I got it all wrong again.”

“No, mom, you were - you are,” Kyungsoo says. “Honestly, you have no idea what a relief it is to know I’d have your support even if I was gay. Like I said, I have two friends who are gay, and one of them was basically disowned, and the other lives in a different country from his whole family and says he’s never going to tell his parents because he knows it’ll cause more misery than it’s worth. You - you being open like this, it’s showing me you’ll accept me as I am, whether it’s straight or gay or anything else, and that’s…” he swallows hard as emotion tries to rise up inside him. His mother reaches out again, takes both of his hands and smiles gently.

“I’m sorry I was so pushy,” she says. “I let my own preconceptions blind me, and I hurt you. I hope I can make things right between us again.”

“You don’t have to,” Kyungsoo tells her, shaking his head. “You already made everything right.”

“I love you, no matter what,” his mother says softly, reaching out to stroke his hair, and somehow Kyungsoo doesn’t even care that she’s wearing a dirty gardening glove to do it. “You’re my child, my only son, and nothing will ever change that.”

Kyungsoo finds he is too choked up to reply, so he smiles instead, and there’s a lightness in his chest, on his shoulders, throughout his entire being. The long-held burden of expectations has been lifted away, and Kyungsoo has never felt more free.

\---

This is the first time in his life Chanyeol has volunteered to take the Chuseok shift. He has worked it before as a resident and when he worked at the convenience store as a teenager, but never voluntarily. This year is different, though. It’s the first time in his entire life that he isn’t going home to celebrate with his parents. Yoora invited him to celebrate with her husband and his nephew, but Chanyeol declined her invitation, excused himself with work and made sure he got the day shift at the hospital. They’re not very busy, though. Every child healthy enough to be sent home for an afternoon has been sent home to enjoy Chuseok in homier surroundings than the coloured walls of the children’s ward at the hospital.

Chanyeol has just eaten his late lunch in his office with his door open so he’s easily available but the second-year resident hasn’t needed his assistance in a while. He stretches his arms above his head and his shoulders crack as he lowers them again. The sun is shining into his office from the large window behind, September showing its pretty side during this national holiday. Long strides take him from his office and around the department. He checks up on their few admitted patients, sends them all a smile even though most of them are sleeping and as he passes his resident checking on a child who’d come in with an asthma attack he stops to observe in the doorway. Dr. Woo is doing a great job of calming the child while simultaneously administering corticosteroids in the inhaler. The child’s parent sits next to them, holding their hand, and when they look up, they get eye contact with Chanyeol. He sends them a smile and nods his head in greeting. Dr. Woo doesn’t notice, so Chanyeol carries on.

In just an hour he’ll be off and Dr. Choi will take over the on-call evening and night shift. Yeonseok’s parents have demanded they come to dinner at their house. They protested loudly when both Yeonseok and Chanyeol had mentioned work, so in the end, they had put their plans of chilling on the couch and being just the two of them aside. Chanyeol likes Yeonseok’s parents, but he still feels a sting of sadness when he thinks of a family Chuseok like this. It was easier when the plan was to basically ignore the holiday. His mother still hasn’t spoken to him, and he knows from Yoora that she doesn’t speak of him when he’s not there. It’s like he doesn’t exist. If he lets himself think too much about it, it hurts like he’s being choked from inside, hard fingers digging into his heart and tightening around his throat.

Someone is talking to Yowon at the reception, and he brushes aside all thoughts of Chuseok and family and goes to see what’s happening. He expects to see a parent with a sick child or perhaps another doctor, but the person in front of the receptionist is neither.

“How can I help, officer?” Yowon asks, straightening in her chair. The police uniform tends to do that to people. Yeonseok’s broad shoulders are relaxed, but Yowon looks nervous. Chanyeol stops where he is and observes them.

“I’m looking for someone,” Yeonseok says and Chanyeol has to bite his lower lip not to burst out laughing when Yowon’s hand tenses her computer mouse. He wonders what she’s done to make her react like this in front of a police officer.

“I see. Who may I call to meet you?” she asks nervously, but Chanyeol takes pity on her, stepping up to reception with a smile.

“Officer Kim,” he says, and Yeonseok’s face lights up. They used to pretend they didn’t know each other in situations like these, but after the terror attack in spring they’ve decided to be friends to those Chanyeol isn’t comfortable coming out to. Being able to greet each other and speak comfortably is a lot easier now that Chanyeol isn’t quite so scared of how people will react if they do happen to find out. His friends have all been wonderful about it, after all. It’s only his family that...

“There you are, Dr. Park,” Yeonseok smiles, and Chanyeol has to stop himself from leaning over and kissing his boyfriend. Yowon gives a faint, relieved-sounding exhale.

“I see you found who you were looking for,” she says and turns back to her computer screen. Yeonseok nods and gestures towards the toilets.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he excuses himself and Chanyeol nods, following him with his eyes. The second the door closes behind Yeonseok, Chanyeol turns to nail Yowon with his most piercing stare. She tries hard to ignore him, but has to give up after thirty seconds.

“So, what did you do?” Chanyeol asks in a conspiratorial whisper. Nobody reacts to a police officer like Yowon just did if they’ve done nothing wrong.

“Nothing,” Yowon hisses back, but Chanyeol doesn’t believe her for a second.

“Don’t lie, you totally did something,” he grins. “That was the most guilty expression I’ve ever seen. Go on, what was it?”

Yowon looks around in the empty reception before she stands up to lean over the desk.

“I forgot to pay my speeding ticket on time,” she whispers in his ear and sits back down in her chair, face burrowed into her palms. Chanyeol starts laughing.

“Oh, you bad girl,” he tells her, still chuckling and unable to stop. It’s just too funny. No police officer would come to her workplace to find her for that small offense. Yowon just glares at him, then immediately switches back into a smile when Yeonseok reappears.

“Ready to go?” he asks. Chanyeol glances at the clock, but there’s still ten minutes until his colleague arrives to take over.

“Ten more minutes, then I’ll be all yours.”

Yowon perks up from behind the desk and when Chanyeol leaves his boyfriend and the receptionist alone, he hears her start asking questions, how do they know each other, what did Chanyeol mean, how good friends are they really? Yeonseok’s laughter follows him down the hallway until he turns a corner and walks further down.

Dr. Woo has moved on from the asthmatic child to a boy with meningitis, checking up on the IV antibiotics and with the parents. Chanyeol finds him standing with furrowed brows as he goes through the chart in his hands. Chanyeol knocks on the door frame.

“What’s up?” he asks. Dr. Woo spins around, looking startled, then pushes his glasses further up his nose and bows his greeting. Chanyeol waves the polite bow away and takes the chart out of Dr. Woo’s hands. Bacterial meningitis, treatment with intravenous antibiotics over a couple of hours, no discernible recovery so far.

“I’m not sure it’s bacterial,” the younger doctor says. Chanyeol hands the chart back to his junior and follows his gaze to the child.

“What makes you say that?” The antibiotics should’ve had some effect by now and Dr. Woo is right to suspect something is off, but they can up the dosage rather than suspect the diagnosis itself.

“The presentation is atypical, mild symptoms and a slower onset than normal according to his history,” Dr. Woo tells Chanyeol, but his voice lacks certainty. “And he should have shown some response to the antibiotics by now, but...” He nods at the child lying in the bed. Chanyeol considers this.

“Well, what do you think it is?” he asks the resident, already suspecting the answer. Dr. Woo pulls the chart closer to his chest, hugs it like it’s his lifeline and without it he’s about to drown. Chanyeol doesn’t think he’s mean enough to warrant that kind of action, but he knows Dr. Woo has had troubles at home, doubting his own abilities to become a good doctor in the first place.

“I think it could be fungal. His mother told me he likes playing and digging in the yard and there’s a large gathering of birds right next to their home. It’s not impossible that he’s gotten in contact with _cryptococcus_ or _blastomyces_.”

Chanyeol nods. Fungal meningitis is difficult to diagnose because blood needs to be specifically screened for the fungal strains, and it’s much more uncommon than bacterial or viral, especially in an otherwise healthy child like this boy. If it is a fungal infection, the antibiotics won’t touch it, he’ll need a specific antifungal depending on the strain. “Let’s check it out. Ask the lab for urgent fungal blood cultures and do a lumbar puncture. Is Dr. Choi in yet?”

Chanyeol looks around but doesn’t get a glimpse of the older attending. He glances at the wall clock in the room. He’s been officially off work for the past five minutes, but he’s not leaving Dr. Woo without an attending, especially not when he’s about to perform a lumbar puncture. “I’ll go find her. Call Nurse Yun to help you with the lumbar puncture.” He pats Dr. Woo’s shoulder for good measure before he leaves the room.

Dr. Choi looks up from her desk where she’s arranging the papers of the admitted patients, skimming over every one of them when Chanyeol finds her. She sends him a smile and pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, Dr. Park, haven’t you left yet?” she asks with genuine kindness and surprise. Chanyeol shakes his head and reciprocates her smile.

“I was just about to leave, but Dr. Woo thinks the boy in 616 has fungal meningitis instead of bacterial. Do you mind checking in on him?”

“No problem, I’ll check on him in a minute.” She smiles at him. “Go home Chanyeol, it’s the holidays.”

The reminder strikes hard, and everything he’s tried to suppress floods back to him. It’s a family holiday, yet he is no longer welcome at home. He nods and backs out of Dr. Choi’s office, desperately trying to push everything back down where it belongs. He forces a smile to his lips as he walks back down the corridor, even though there’s nobody around to see him. There’s no point in being miserable about something he can’t change, and maybe if he smiles enough, it’ll stick and become real.

When he gets back out to reception he’s almost tackled to the ground as Yeonseok latches onto his shoulders. His boyfriend is laughing, reaching up on tip toes to touch the back of his head and ruffle his hair and Chanyeol feels the sadness wash away, his smile becoming truly genuine in the presence of Yeonseok’s happiness.

They walk to the front parking lot of the hospital where Yeonseok has parked his patrol car. The blue and yellow stripes shine in the afternoon sun and the blue POLICE marked on the doors makes Chanyeol feel a little excited. He’s never been in one of the patrol cars before. It’s not boyfriend privileges, he’s been told, but now it’s their only ride to the police station where Yeonseok has left his own car. Chanyeol leans back in the passenger seat, scoots his seat back as far as it’ll go and stretches out his legs as much as possible. He sighs contentedly and closes his eyes for a second. Yeonseok chuckles at him and Chanyeol can imagine him shaking his head. He doesn’t open his eyes to actually check.

The drive to the police station takes about 45 minutes and Chanyeol spends at least 30 of them unsuccessfully trying to convince Yeonseok to turn on the lights and sirens. When they roll into the parking lot, Yeonseok reaches over to squeeze Chanyeol’s hand before he lets go and gets out of the car. Chanyeol gets out too, trying not to feel nervous. Yeonseok has told a few of his closest colleagues that he’s gay and he’s been accepted by them, the same way Chanyeol has been accepted by his friends. They had talked in the morning, Yeonseok asking if he would be okay with being introduced to them as his boyfriend. Chanyeol hadn’t been sure, and had covered his anxiety by wondering aloud how the police officers would react to a lanky, big-eared doctor claiming to be the boyfriend of their strong and handsome Yeonseok. Yeonseok had laughed and kissed him and promised that they were going to love him, but Chanyeol’s got a lifetime of fear inside him that still rears up at times like these. But he’s working on it, and that’s the main thing.

Yang Jiah jumps from her seat when they enter Yeonseok’s old department and runs over to hug Yeonseok. Then she hits his chest with the file in her hand and growls at him for abandoning her in the stupid, dusty, old department to become a K9 officer. Yeonseok just smiles at her.

“Who’s this?” she asks and narrows her eyes at Chanyeol. Chanyeol would have hid behind Yeonseok if he could, but he’s too much taller than his boyfriend to get away with it. The woman in front of him, though small and skinny, is incredibly intimidating. He stammers a bit as he introduces himself, and Yeonseok takes his hand.

“Stop making my boyfriend uncomfortable,” he says. Jiah gapes like a fish out of water. It goes on for a full thirty seconds and Chanyeol is about to wonder aloud if she’s malfunctioned before she screeches and smacks Yeonseok’s shoulder. Chanyeol puts his fingers in his ears and winces.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” she demands and pulls Chanyeol away from Yeonseok, directing him to sit in the chair she vacated when they entered the room. She hops onto the table, crosses her legs and gives Chanyeol a piercing stare.

“How old are you, what is your occupation, when did you meet Yeonseok and what are your intentions with him?” she asks rapidfire. Chanyeol can’t do more than stare at her, dumbfounded. He wants to plead guilty to something he hasn’t done just from the way she looks at him. He’d be a horrible criminal, he decides, right then and there, because there’s no way he wouldn’t crumble right in front of her. Yeonseok chuckles, leaning against the back of Chanyeol’s chair.

“He’s younger than me, he’s a porn star, we met at a strip club and his intentions with me are entirely impure and have been for the last five years,” Yeonseok says, and Chanyeol blushes scarlet. He knows Yeonseok is wiggling his eyebrows at his old partner without even looking. Jiah pouts at her former partner and then relaxes her position a little.

“Liar. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend for five years.”

“Stop interrogating my boyfriend and maybe you’ll get the truth,” Yeonseok tells her and her pout deepens.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for leaving me here with all those crusty old dudes,” she says in a stage whisper, but they’re the only ones there except for a man who seems to be deep in his work on the computer. He gives her the finger without looking up and continues what he’s doing.

“Maybe they’ll treat you right if you stop calling them crusty and old,” Yeonseok laughs. “Right, Detective Tak?” The other man in the room agrees with a non-committal hum and then ignores the two younger police officers and Chanyeol. They continue talking, Chanyeol saying very little, but he doesn’t really know what to say. The way they talk to each other has caught him a little off guard. He’s watched enough crime dramas to know police officers have a certain jargon with each other, but seeing it all unfold in real time is still disconcerting. Jiah smiles as she talks, but there’s still something unnerving about her gaze when she looks at him, and Chanyeol instinctively presses close to Yeonseok’s side, glad when his boyfriend immediately wraps an arm around his waist. This is very different from how he usually behaves. He’s never reached out for Yeonseok in public, not even when he needed him the most, but in front of Jiah, everything is just a little different, and he likes the comfort of Yeonseok beside him.

When they leave the department, they head towards a smaller wing of the building. There’s a tiny enclosed garden with a grass lawn on the other side. Yeonseok stops to talk to the officer manning the desk, but Chanyeol is immediately drawn towards the litter of puppies playing on the grass. There are a lot of German shepherds and golden labradors and they all flock towards him the second he enters. Small yips and barks direct his attention to twelve small puppies, all dying to get his attention.

“You can sit down,” someone says behind him and Chanyeol doesn’t need to be told twice. He plops down in the middle of the puppies and is immediately overwhelmed when they crawl onto his lap and starts licking whatever skin they can get to. He feels a presence beside him and turns his head to send his boyfriend a smile. The puppies all fight for their attention but for a moment, Chanyeol is completely lost in the beautiful face he has loved for so many years. Yeonseok yelps when one of the puppies nips on his finger and Chanyeol bursts out in laughter. He lifts one of the German shepherds, which starts immediately licking his cheek. A high pitched yelp sounds from the corner of the garden where a black puppy has gotten itself entangled in a branch. It’s struggling to get free and Chanyeol takes pity on it. It doesn’t take long to free the small puppy and it licks at his hands with the passion of a child in a chocolate cabinet.

“Why is this one black?” he asks the officer behind them. Chanyeol can’t quite identify the breed of this black puppy, he doesn’t look like a labrador nor does he look like a German shepherd. Its fur is long and its ears too big for the small face. It looks a little funny but with a charm he has never encountered before. The officer smiles.

“He’s a Belgian shepherd, the only one of his litter that has the personality for police work.” Yeonseok turns around to watch the puppy Chanyeol is holding in his hands. The Belgian shepherd puppy circles Chanyeol’s lap twice before he plops down and yawns big. Chanyeol’s heart melts immediately. There’s no other dog they could possibly bring home. All of the puppies are incredibly cute, but this little one has chosen them. Chanyeol turns to Yeonseok who just laughs incredulously.

“I can’t believe he picked you,” he says.

“It’s because he knows he’ll be spoiled,” Chanyeol grins, continuing to pet the puppy.

“He’s a working dog, Chanyeol,” Yeonseok says, but Chanyeol shrugs.

“I know, he can work with you and be my pet when he’s lying on the couch in the evening.” He doesn’t look up to see Yeonseok get eye contact with the other officer and get off the grass. He only has eyes for the black puppy with ears too big for his little face. The puppy wakes up a minute later and lifts his head to look at Chanyeol and there’s no doubt in his mind. No matter what dog Yeonseok brings home for work, they will have to get this dog - and if he doesn’t turn out suitable for police work, Chanyeol will adopt him and bring him home as a pet.

“His name is Yomchi,” Yeonseok whispers into Chanyeol’s ear and Chanyeol turns to look at the small puppy named integrity. It fits just right.

“We’re taking him,” Chanyeol says without a hint of doubt in his voice and it causes his boyfriend to burst out in laughter. When Chanyeol looks up he finds Yeonseok nodding his head with a smile.

The drive home to their apartment is full of Chanyeol talking about Yomchi. He can’t get over how adorable the puppy is and he lets Yeonseok know in no uncertain terms that there’s no way he can bring home another puppy when they’re assigned. Yeonseok assures him multiple times that he has put in his request for Yomchi and the other officer has almost guaranteed that they’ll get to take home the black puppy. When they pull up in the parking basement of their apartment, Yeonseok leans over the gear shift to shut Chanyeol up with a kiss. It’s the first kiss of the day and Chanyeol melts into it like there’s no tomorrow. Taking the stairs with their hands linked makes Chanyeol forget that they still have a Chuseok dinner to get through. It’s not until the door to the apartment closes and Yeonseok announces that he’s going to take a shower first that it all suddenly becomes very real.

The apartment feels eerily silent for the first time in a long while when Yeonseok disappears into the bathroom. Baekhyun has gone home tonight to visit his parents before he comes back to take a shift tomorrow. His things are scattered all throughout the apartment and it’s hard to think of the time when it was just him and Yeonseok living here. Back before Baekhyun had moved in, the apartment had never felt empty, not like this. For some reason it had been plenty of space for the two of them to fill. Chanyeol walks through the apartment on bare feet until he reaches the bathroom door and pushes down on the door knob to find that his boyfriend hasn’t locked the door. He’s whistling a happy tune from the shower and Chanyeol sits down on the toilet and leans against the wall. He closes his eyes and lets the heat of the steam and the sound of his boyfriend comfort him. Chanyeol doesn’t open his eyes until he feels a wet hand land on his cheek and wet lips press a kiss to his own.

“Hey,” Yeonseok whispers and Chanyeol sends him a smile. His boyfriend is naked in front of him safe for the towel wrapped around his waist. His hair drips water onto the floor and his feet make wet prints where he stands. “You should shower too.”

Chanyeol gets up to undress. When he sheds his boxers and stands naked in the bathroom, he feels two hands wrap around his waist and he leans back against Yeonseok.

“What?” he asks and Yeonseok just hums against his bare shoulder. “Don’t you think you’re proving your impure intentions too soon?” Yeonseok snorts and lets go of Chanyeol. He smacks his ass instead and Chanyeol laughs as he enters the shower and lets the hot water wash away all the tension in his muscles.

Dressed in a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks, Chanyeol reaches up to run a hand through his hair. It falls in whichever direction it wants but he can’t be bothered to gel it up. He knows Yeonseok’s parents won’t care about his hair. They’re not very traditional but they’ve made Chuseok a family reunion that brings home their sons, no matter what they’re doing or where in the world they might be.

Chanyeol became a part of the family when he was introduced to them as Yeonseok’s boyfriend and his parents always invited him too, but he had declined their invitations because he had to go home and visit his own parents. Yeonseok’s mother has always been very understanding of this, but when they told her that this time that he’d be coming, she had been absolutely elated. Yeonseok hasn’t told his parents that Chanyeol’s mother didn’t take learning of his sexuality well, only because Chanyeol insisted they don’t have to know.

Yeonseok sends him a smile from the bed where he’s putting on white tennis socks. He’s wearing a bordeaux knitted sweater and skinny jeans and he looks gorgeous.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of concern clouding his voice, but Chanyeol disregards it. He will have to be okay. He can’t change his mother or his sexuality. He might as well make the most of the evening.

“I’m fine,” he tells Yeonseok and leaves the bedroom, only to reenter when he realises he’s forgotten his watch. It was a birthday gift from Yeonseok the year he turned 30 and he never leaves the apartment without it unless he’s going to work. Yeonseok gets off the bed and walks over, reaching out towards the watch to lock it around Chanyeol’s wrist. Chanyeol can do it himself without help, but he lets Yeonseok do it right now because it feels nice, because it reaffirms that he’s loved unconditionally from the one man that matters the most. When the watch is secure he leans down to kiss his boyfriend and Yeonseok smiles when he lets go.

Twenty-seven minutes later, they’re locking the apartment door behind them and walking towards the elevators. The elevator doors let them out in the basement and Yeonseok’s car blinks twice from its parking spot as he unlocks it. His parents live in Guri, just outside of Seoul and it doesn’t take more than twenty minutes before they park in front of a large apartment complex. A young mother nods her head in greeting as she walks past them out of the building and the front door manager sends them a curt bow. The elevators take them to the tenth floor and as they walk down the long hallway towards Yeonseok’s parents, they hear classical music flow from the apartment opposite. They barely get to ring the doorbell before the door is flung open by a tiny woman. Her hair is white, her fingers curved with arthritis and she’s wearing the brightest smile Chanyeol has ever seen in his life.

“Yeonseok, my dear boy!” she exclaims and reaches up with old hands to grab her grandson’s face and squeeze it. Yeonseok lowers down, just enough to prevent her from standing on her tiptoes and gives her a hug when she lets go of him. Then she turns to Chanyeol and claps her hands together in delight. “Chanyeol, my sweet child! Come in, come in!” She rushes them inside and Yeonseok’s mother comes out to greet them in the hallway. She greets them just enthusiastically as her mother did, though she doesn’t squeeze either of their cheeks. She, too, is a small woman, though with a little more muscle than her mother. Yeonseok’s father and grandfather sit in the kitchen talking about the news while his younger brother Jaewook and his girlfriend fold songpyeon. Chanyeol hasn’t met Jaewook’s new girlfriend yet, they’ve only been dating for a year, but she greets them without judgment and Chanyeol feels a little more at ease.

He joins Jaewook at the kitchen table and automatically starts folding songpyeon. It’s a habit so ingrained that he doesn’t even have to look at what he’s doing. He was taught by his own grandmother when he was a child. Jaewook tells him about a big deal at the office he’s working at and his girlfriend goes to help with the japchae. Yeonseok is in a passionate discussion with his father and grandfather about the biggest football match of the year and Chanyeol looks their way only to turn back and get eye contact with Jaewook, who rolls his eyes at the passionate sports debate. Chanyeol laughs.

“We chose a puppy today,” he says, and Jaewook’s eyes light up. They talk about Yomchi while they fold the rest of the songpyeon and when they finish, Jaewook is just as on board with the black Belgian shepherd as Chanyeol had been.

“You have to let me come over and visit!” he says and Chanyeol agrees readily. The more people he can show his new puppy off to, the better. He can introduce Yomchi to Yoora and Minki and Seojoon too. He smiles at the thought of how excited his nephew will be. Then a pair of slim hands wrap around his and he looks up to get eye contact with Yeonseok’s grandmother.

“It’s so lovely to see you again!” she says and pats his hand like they haven't seen each other in many many years. Jaewook protests from the opposite side of the table but she shushes him. “I see you all the time,” she says to Yeonseok’s younger brother before she turns her attention back to Chanyeol. “But I haven’t seen this one for a whole year!”

Chanyeol blushes a little and feels guilty for not having visited. He doesn’t even see his own grandparents that often. Maybe he should call them and ask if he can visit. He tenses up when he remembers that they might want nothing to do with him now. He’s not sure if his mother has told them, but if she can disown him, so can they. He swallows and forces a smile to the front. Yeonseok’s mother joins them at the table and nods.

“It really is lovely to have you here! Aren’t your family doing anything for Chuseok this year?”

Chanyeol’s heart sinks. He can’t tell them why he’s chosen to spend Chuseok with Yeonseok’s parents and not his own. It’s not that he fears a bad reaction; he knows they would hug him tight and promise him he’d always be very welcome at their home, but Chanyeol cannot bear to confess to the people who accepted their own son with unconditional love, that his own mother cannot do the same for him. It’s both easier and harder when he thinks of his father. He’s so grateful for his father’s acceptance and the reassurance of his love and it’s gone a long way to healing the pain in his heart, but the difference of opinion between his parents has driven a wedge between them. The family is cracking apart and it’s all Chanyeol’s doing.

“I just thought I’d come to you this time, since you’ve asked so often. You’ve always treated me as a son, so I see you as my family too,” he says, smiling. His throat feels tight, but he’s rewarded by both Yeonseok’s mother and grandmother lighting up. Yeonseok’s mother hugs him and kisses his cheek, telling him he’s a sweetheart, before she turns back towards the kitchen. Yeonseok’s grandmother doesn’t say anything, though her eyes are soft as she watches him continue folding songpyeon. It makes Chanyeol feel incredibly small, and his throat just keeps getting tighter. It wasn’t a lie, but at the same time it was, and he feels awful and wrong.

After a few moments he excuses himself and heads towards the hallway at the back of the house that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. He shuts the door of the bathroom behind him and leans against it, pressing his hands over his face. Each breath is an effort as he tries to find his centre, or at least pull his mask back up. He doesn’t understand why this is so hard. Why is being loved so hard?

He can’t spend too long in the bathroom. Someone will notice and check on him. He splashes his face with water and comes out, but standing in the dim hallway, he finds he can’t quite face going back into the warmth and loving company, where he’ll have to turn on his sparkle and his smile, and try to somehow ignore the increasingly familiar grip of panic squeezing in on him.

Without quite knowing how, he finds himself in Yeonseok’s childhood bedroom. The desk is a little dusty and the old manhwa books and figurines still stand on their shelves, but there’s nobody to see him break down in here, so Chanyeol sinks down onto the floor, his back against the bed with its Gundam Wing bedspread. He sits there with his head between his knees, blocking out the world with crossed arms as he tries to pull himself together. The ringing in his ears is almost enough to block out the noise from the kitchen. Minutes, he doesn't know how many, trickle by in slow motion as he curls in on himself, fingertips pushing bruises into the skin of his arms and neck aching from his odd positioning.

He only looks up when the door opens. His boyfriend’s face wavers, blurred, and he wipes at his eyes to clear them.

“Oh, baby…” Yeonseok sits down on the floor beside him and starts rubbing calming circles on his back, and Chanyeol focuses on the physical touch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and Yeonseok’s hand stops briefly only to begin again.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

Chanyeol exhales, finally able to breathe out all the way. Yeonseok stops his rubbing and wraps both arms around him, pulling his head to his chest and combing his fingers through his hair. They sit there for a few minutes in silence, just staring at the history of Yeonseok’s childhood around them.

“I’m being stupid. I’m ruining the evening,” Chanyeol says after a while.

“You’re not ruining anything, baby. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I...I just needed some air.” Chanyeol takes another breath. “It just all got...your parents are so....” he can’t finish the sentence and for a second he starts to panic again because he didn’t mean to sound like Yeonseok’s parents did anything wrong. It’s not them that’s the problem here, it’s him, but Yeonseok just makes a noise of understanding and keeps running his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

“I know,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes and for a few blissful minutes, allows himself to be comforted. He’s suddenly so tired, the ebbing of panic leaving him drained, even though it hadn’t been nearly as bad as the other times. He wants to stay here, being held and understood and loved, forever, but he knows he can’t.

“We should go back,” he says. “They’ll be wondering…”

“We can stay here until you feel better. Nobody will mind a bit, I promise,” Yeonseok says, and Chanyeol should probably protest at that. He could pull himself together now if he had to, act the part of his normal, happy self. But he’s weak, and so he gives in and lets Yeonseok hold him for a little longer.

Five minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and Jaewook softly announces his presence on the other side. He pops his head inside when Yeonseok says it’s okay and tells them dinner is ready. Chanyeol can see something in Jaewook’s eyes he can’t quite interpret, something that isn’t hidden entirely beneath the jokes he cracks as they move to the kitchen together.

To his relief, nobody mentions their half-hour disappearance. They talk about Jaewook’s girlfriend’s job as a veterinary nurse, they discuss Yeonseok’s promotion to K9 officer and they talk about Yeonseok’s grandparents who want to move into an apartment in the same complex as his parents instead of the farm house they have in the north. Yeonseok immediately promises to help them move if they find an apartment and Jaewook chimes in rather reluctantly with a joke about how hard it is to live up to Yeonseok’s reputation of being the perfect son.

At first Chanyeol feels strangely brittle, surrounded by all this joy and love. He feels like a dry, dead branch on a healthy tree, unable to grow bright leaves like the rest of it. His laughter seems to rattle oddly inside him, though nobody else seems to notice. Still, when he looks around the table at this wonderful family who have accepted him as one of theirs, as Yeonseok sneaks a hand under the table to his thigh and leaves it there for most of the entire meal, eating one-handed to accommodate it, he realises he doesn’t wish he was anywhere else. He is who he is, and he won’t apologize for that; he won’t let what happened destroy him when he has so many blessings. He’s happy here, and accepted, and loved, and he lets himself realise that, and the feeling of being dry and cracked and worthless slowly fades.

Yeonseok’s mother gives him a long hug, tight and warm, when they say their goodbyes. She pats his cheek gently before she turns away from him and hugs her son goodbye. They walk to the car, the soft evening air colder than expected and Chanyeol hugs himself to keep warm.

Back at home, they settle on the couch, Chanyeol resting his head on Yeonseok’s chest as Die Hard plays on the TV, streaming through Yeonseok’s phone. Yeonseok has his arm slung over Chanyeol’s shoulder, his fingers tracing patterns on his chest. When the ending credits roll over the screen and Yeonseok reaches out towards the phone, Chanyeol puts his hand over Yeonseok’s and stops him.

“Just let it be,” he whispers and Yeonseok raises an eyebrow in question. Chanyeol doesn’t answer but buries back into his boyfriend’s body and Yeonseok snorts with laughter.

“Okay,” he whispers back into his ear and then blows a stream of soft air into it. Chanyeol whines in protest and pulls his shoulder up to protect his ear. Yeonseok chuckles and presses a kiss to the ear he has just offended and Chanyeol smiles. He looks up directly into Yeonseok’s eyes and when Yeonseok leans down, Chanyeol meets him halfway in a kiss.


	4. October 8th

The scent of newly brewed black coffee reaches Yixing before he enters the small break room in the oncology department. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second before he enters. One of the oncology nurses sends him a smile and turns back to get her cup of coffee before she leaves him alone in the room. It’s a lovely morning in October and the weather is extraordinarily good for the season. Yixing sends the city skyline a quick glance before he turns back around to face the coffee brewer and gets himself a cup of coffee. He has outpatients today, but one never showed up and the next called in to reschedule, so his ten minute break has suddenly become a thirty minute break. Yixing will spend some of the time catching up on the endless documentation he’s always behind on, but for now he has enough time to sit down and enjoy his coffee. He has just pulled his phone from his pocket when a text message comes through, and with one finger he touches the app to read the message. What meets him are the words help me from Minseok and Yixing blinks. It’s unlike his friend to be overdramatic, and Yixing immediately texts back to ask what’s wrong. He gets a response a second later that’s just a row of very unhelpful exclamation marks, and he decides to just leave his coffee. Talking with Minseok will be easier in person than over the phone and he still has twenty-five minutes to spare. 

Minseok’s office door is open and papers are spread everywhere, and that’s not like Minseok either, he’s always so tidy. He looks a little distressed as he paces around the office. Yixing knocks on the doorframe and it causes Minseok to abruptly stop and stare at him, only to relax his face when he realises it’s Yixing. 

“Come in,” he says, and Yixing steps inside. He gathers a few papers and puts them to the side so he can sit down in Minseok’s chair. The other doctor closes the door to the office and plops down opposite Yixing. He buries his face in his hands and Yixing feels the same worry he’d felt when he received the text message. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks. Minseok shakes his head before he looks up to meet Yixing’s eyes. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” It sounds both serious and resigned. Yixing can’t imagine any situation in which he would laugh at Minseok, it just doesn’t make sense. Minseok has been through a lot, also more than he has told Yixing and Yixing wouldn’t dream of making fun of whatever it is that has Minseok so stressed out. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he says.

“I met a woman.” 

Minseok stops there and the office goes quiet, the chaotic noise from the ED the only sound. Yixing tilts his head and stares at his friend. 

“I...am assuming it’s not just any woman?” he prompts when Minseok doesn’t continue. 

Minseok sighs and shakes his head. “No, she’s...very special. I think I might be in love with her,” he says, and whatever Yixing might have been expecting, Minseok being in love was not it. For so many years, he hasn’t even looked at another woman, hasn’t talked about love. When he got divorced, Minseok had seemed to give up on love entirely, and even though Yixing hadn’t known the cause of their divorce until six months ago, he does know that his friend has been very withdrawn and isolated for many years. The thought of Minseok being in love slowly but surely lifts the corners of Yixing’s mouth, and Minseok sends him a frown. 

“I told you not to laugh at me,” he says. Yixing shakes his head. 

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m happy for you. Being in love is wonderful,” he says, but Minseok puts his head in his hands again. 

“ _No_ ,” he whines, and the sound has Yixing pursing his lips to keep from laughing. “I’m thirty-six, Yixing, I’m not supposed to fall in love. I act like I’m eighteen when I’m around her, it’s so embarrassing!” 

Yixing reaches over to put a hand on Minseok’s shoulder and fixes him with a strong gaze when they get eye contact. 

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to fall in love? Love doesn’t simply disappear just because you grow older. Some people fall in love when they’re eighty.” 

Minseok positively pouts at him. 

“But I can’t do it anymore. I’m so out of touch with all this dating business and I...what if I ruin a good friendship because I was stupid enough to fall in love with her?” 

Yixing’s smile softens and he gets up from his chair to place himself next to Minseok on the couch. 

“I’m positive you’re not ruining anything. You’re a great guy Minseok, any woman would be lucky to be your girlfriend. Why don’t you just enjoy being in love?” 

The glare he receives from his friend makes it hard to not snort, but Yixing manages. He promised not to laugh and he isn’t going to break that promise. 

“There’s nothing enjoyable about this,” he mumbles but Yixing knows that’s not true. The look in Minseok’s eyes makes it obvious that Minseok cares very much for her. He asks Minseok to tell him about her, and Minseok’s insecurities from not having dated in years are slowly replaced with happiness as he tells Yixing all about Lee Eunsook and the couple of little dates they’ve had so far, which Yixing thinks are truly adorable. He’s actually met Dr. Lee several times during ICU handovers, and he thinks they must look so cute together. He tells Minseok this and gets a smack on the shoulder and a “I’m not cute, I’m 36!” but Yixing knows that Minseok will never escape from being cute.

When twenty minutes of talking have passed, Yixing has to interrupt to let Minseok know that he has patients in five minutes. Minseok understands, mumbles something about how he has to go back to managing emergency department in chaos instead of private life chaos, and then thanks Yixing for coming down. 

Out in the hallway Yixing watches as patients and personnel almost trip over each other and he catches sight of a small woman he knows very well, a visible baby bump swelling beneath her baggy scrubs. As she walks past him, focused on the tablet in her hands, Yixing reaches out to tap her shoulder and she turns around in a flash. Songmi smiles at him and Yixing reaches to push a stray hair behind her ear. 

“Remember to take it easy, baby,” he tells her and Songmi rolls her eyes with a smile. 

“Yes, dear. I’ll see you later.” 

With those words, she turns back around and hurries down to continue the task at hand and Yixing stares at her until he gets eye contact with Minseok, who taps his empty wrist to remind him of the time before he disappears into a room to see a patient. Instead of waiting for the elevators, Yixing decides to take the stairs to the ninth floor. When he finally gets there, he’s a minute late and his coffee is cold. 

Yixing doesn’t get another chance for coffee during the rest of the morning before lunch. His patients are all scheduled back to back and many of them have a lot of questions regarding their treatment plans. There are chemotherapy side effects that cause concern and radiation therapy burns that need new topical treatments and as he works through his list of outpatients to see he finds that he doesn’t have time to think about anything else. 

He has just closed the door behind Mrs. Kwon and her sister when his pager starts beeping from his pocket. Yixing isn’t usually the oncologist called to emergencies when he has his outpatient days and the first thought that strikes his mind is that they’re calling him because of Songmi. His mouth feels dry and time seems to freeze for a couple of seconds until the pager starts up again, beeping with a new reminder that he’s needed in the ED and he’s needed _now_. 

Yixing jogs to the emergency staircase and as he flies down the nine set of stairs he keeps trying to keep panicked thoughts of Songmi miscarrying at bay. She’s past the first trimester and the risk has lessened dramatically, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. They have only just started telling people they’re expecting. They can’t be losing their first child, not after everything they went through in spring.

He finds the emergency department just as chaotic as it had been a couple of hours earlier, but his wife is nowhere to be seen and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Where’s Songmi?” he asks the head nurse. Aecha sends him a kind smile as she updates her computer screen. She points towards the long hallway. 

“In room 18, she’s treating a head wound. Do you want me to call her for you?” she asks and Yixing’s shoulders sag. He hadn’t realised he was so tense until he relaxed. He shakes his head. 

“No, it’s okay. What did you page me here for?” Embarrassment crawls up his neck and Yixing exhales deeply to keep the colour off his cheeks. He should’ve known better than to panic like this when the scenario was so unlikely to begin with. 

“Dr. Kim wanted your assessment on a patient with spinal cord compression with breast cancer,” she tells him and stands up to lean over the desk and point in the opposite direction. “They’re in room 2.” She sends him a smile as she sits down again and Yixing bows his head in thanks before he walks towards the room indicated to him. 

Inside he finds a woman in her forties on the exam bed and Minseok standing in the corner, staring at a computer screen with images of what must be the woman’s emergency MRI. He doesn’t look up until he hears the door close behind Yixing. 

“Yixing!” he greets and then turns to the patient. “This is Dr. Zhang.” 

Yixing sends Minseok a smile and turns his full attention to the patient as he introduces himself. The woman, Park Jihyun, has stage three breast cancer and has been undergoing radiation therapy in a hospital in Daegu. She was visiting her daughter in Seoul when her legs suddenly buckled under her and she became paralysed. She isn’t in great pain at the moment but it’ll undoubtedly come back when the painkillers wear off. 

It doesn’t take long for Yixing to read the radiologist's description of the images and the cord compression looks serious. It’s no doubt a metastasis of her cancer. 

“What do you suggest? You want me to call a general surgeon as well?” Minseok asks and Yixing shakes his head. Surgery isn’t going to do much for her cancer and they risk spreading it even further if they don’t get the entire tumour. 

“No, I think emergency radiation is the best course. Did you give dexamethasone?” 

Minseok looks almost affronted when Yixing turns to get his answer, and Yixing sends him a soft smile, hoping for forgiveness. He didn’t mean to insinuate that Minseok doesn’t know his job. Forgiveness is given with a smile.

“I want to transfer her to oncology so we can get her emergency radiation. We’ll continue with the dexamethasone to reduce edema.” He turns back to Jihyun to explain the situation to her. “What we’re going to do is we’ll get you to oncology and get you admitted there. When you’re settled in a room, I expect in no less than thirty minutes, we’ll get you radiated and that’s hopefully going to shrink the tumour to a size where it will no longer compress your spinal cord. In the meantime I’ll call your oncologist in Daegu and ask them for your medical journal so we can continue your normal treatment plan while you’re admitted here with us. Is that okay with you?” 

Jihyun agrees, so Yixing turns to go. Just as he’s about to exit the room he’s forced to step aside as a young woman, no more than nineteen years old, comes flying in, tears in her eyes. 

“Mom!” she cries and hurries towards Jihyun on the bed. She bursts into tears when her mother embraces her. 

“It’ll be alright, child,” Jihyun says gently. Yixing watches the sick mother comfort her daughter and he’s reminded of all the parents he’s treated thus far, parents who survived and won the battle against a relentless disease, and those who didn’t. Those who left families and loved ones behind, some even before there were memories formed, like Oh Eunji and her baby Seunggi. He watches a nineteen-year-old girl scared in the presence of a mother who is suddenly the vulnerable one, and he’s fixated on the emotional scene before him, unable to break away as his own emotions rage behind his distant eyes. 

He sees himself at sixteen, standing stiff next to a hospital bed where his father is lying, still and pale as a ghost. His mother hugs him with tears streaming down her cheeks, praying to non-existent gods that they would spare him, but Yixing knows better. He knows just by looking that his father is dead, even if the machinery says otherwise. 

A stroke, they tell them, a catastrophic one that has permanently destroyed his brain function. They could keep him alive and comatose on a respirator for years, but his mother has never been stupid. This is the moment to say goodbye. Yixing doesn’t cry. He can’t comprehend that this is the last moment he’ll ever have with his father. He’s scared of death but he doesn’t say it out loud. He must be strong for his mother. 

The memory is only broken when a hand gently but firmly pushes him from the room and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll arrange the transfer to oncology. Yixing, are you okay?” Minseok asks and pulls him into a corner. Yixing blinks, focuses his attention back on the task at hand. Minseok looks worried and it strikes Yixing as a look he’d rather not have directed at him again. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He waves his hand to wave the emotion away and sends Minseok a smile. “It’s nothing.” Minseok looks at him with such a soft gaze that it catches Yixing a little off guard.

“If you need someone to talk to, just let me know,” he says and Yixing nods. Minseok pats his shoulder before he turns around to address the nurse who has just called for him and Yixing stands alone in the emergency department and shakes his head to rid himself of memories. 

He’s distracted all the way back to oncology and isn't really aware of his surroundings until he finds himself standing, confused, in front of a reception desk that definitely isn’t his. The unfamiliar receptionist sends him a kind smile and the sign on the desk let’s him know that he’s at the cardiology department.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

Yixing drags himself to his senses, piecing together how he must have gotten here.

“No, I’m sorry. I got off on the wrong floor.” 

Waiting for the elevator for the last two floors is a waste of time and he’s probably going to be late, so he turns to find the stairwell entrance and finds himself almost bumping into the star of the cardiothoracic team, dressed in navy surgical scrubs. Joonmyun stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Where are you heading?” he asks. Yixing points a finger towards the ceiling to indicate that he’s going up. “You seem out of it,” Joonmyun continues, and Yixing finds his way to a smile.

“I haven’t had lunch yet, I’m just a little hungry.” 

It’s not until the excuse leaves his lips that Yixing realises that it’s actually true. He spent his lunch break in the ED and there’s only a few minutes left before his next outpatient. He has a pack of crackers in his office, it’ll have to do. Joonmyun frowns, but it’s one of concern, and Yixing chuckles. “I will eat in my office, don’t worry,” he says and turns to leave Joonmyun behind.

He never gets to eat the crackers, though, because the first of his patients has already arrived and Yixing’s afternoon schedule is tight. He works his way through cancer diagnoses and prognoses and delivers promising results to most of his patients. His mood slowly lifts as he’s not with the severe reality of his specialty and as time passes by, excitement slowly takes over as he counts the hours to his own appointment with another doctor, one that will bring good news. Hopefully. Yixing pushes thoughts of bad results out of his mind and everything gets a little easier. He manages to find time to check up on Jihyun and is pleased to find that the emergency radiation therapy has worked to shrink the tumour enough so that it’s no longer compressing her spinal cord. She will regain the use of her legs. 

Yixing has just hung his doctor’s coat on his chair and pulled his denim jacket on when his phone rings. The name that pops up has a smile form on his lips. They told Yixing’s mother about their appointment today and she’s been texting him for the last couple of days. She keeps worrying about not being there, but Yixing reassures her it’s okay, she doesn’t have to be present for every little thing. The plan is for her to come and stay for a few weeks after the baby is born, his mother promising over and over that she will come and take care of the home while they rest and bond with the baby. Yixing is so grateful, having a mother present who knows what she’s doing with a newborn baby is going to be so reassuring. She continues talking as he makes his way down the stairs towards ground level.

“I know māmā,” Yixing says into his phone with a smile. He has just arrived at the entrance to the ED to collect Songmi for their appointment. “I have to go, but I promise to call you back tonight to let you know the gender,” he tells her and she finally agrees to hang up. Songmi stands in front of him when he finally hangs up and her smile has his heart skip a beat and he leans down to press a quick kiss to her lips. His hand gently runs over her stomach and she chuckles at him while she reaches down to link their fingers. She waves goodbye to a few coworkers as they leave to take the elevators back up to obstetrics on the third floor. 

The obstetrics ward is full of soft colours and lovely couches, and it looks homely in a way the ED and oncology doesn’t. The receptionist sends them both a bright smile. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” she says and Songmi presses a little closer to Yixing. It’s not the first time either of them are on the floor but the appointment today is special. 

“We have an appointment with Dr. Kim,” Yixing tells the receptionist who taps on her keyboard. He sneaks his arm around Songmi’s waist and she sends him another smile. They’re told there will be a few minutes wait but to take a seat. They choose a soft-looking couch, and Songmi turns to him and rests her hand on her stomach. 

“Wanna bet about the gender?” she asks. 

“Sure. I think it’s a girl,” Yixing says, and she snorts. 

“I’m so winning this bet, I’m sure it’s a boy!” 

Yixing pouts at her and she laughs. 

“How can you be so sure? I want a baby girl that looks exactly like her mother,” he whispers to her and Songmi shakes her head fondly.

“Nope, it’s a little boy who looks just like his father.” 

“You can’t know that,” Yixing argues, but they’re interrupted when a doctor calls towards them. Jongdae is trying hard to keep his laughter in and Yixing sends him an apologetic smile. It’s hard to be professional when he’s not here as a doctor. 

“Goodness, you’ve gotten big, Songmi! Are you sure you’re not hiding two in there?” Jongdae asks with a smile as he closes the door behind them. 

Songmi laughs, but Yixing stops in his tracks for a second as he stares blankly at Jongdae. What is he talking about? They’ve already had scans, they can’t be having twins. Songmi jokes back that she’s just eating well enough for two, and Yixing shakes it off as his wife climbs onto the exam bed. 

He sits down next to the exam bed with a relieved exhale and then looks at Jongdae who’s still having fun with Songmi, teasing her that she won’t be able to fit through the door next time she comes to see him. Yixing loves the familiarity of being here with Jongdae. He has full trust in the other doctor’s abilities to make sure their baby sees the world safely and the casual laughter between them makes it all so much more enjoyable. 

Preparing for the scan doesn’t take long and the casual banter between all three of them makes time pass really fast. The ultrasound probe is placed on her stomach and Songmi complains about the cold gel with mirth in her voice. Jongdae sends her an apologetic chuckle, then quiets down as he moves the probe over Songmi’s abdomen and watches the screen. His brows furrow and Yixing leans over to look at the screen too. Though he did learn a little ultrasound as a medical student, he has forgotten most of it and he’s not skilled at looking at obstetric ultrasounds. Jongdae moves the probe a little to the right and then back to the left and then he presses a button on the ultrasound machine to freeze the image. 

“So,” Yixing prompts, because Jongdae’s expression is unreadable and he can’t be left in the dark much longer. 

“You’re having twins,” Jongdae says, completely matter-of-fact, like his words aren’t just blowing Yixing’s whole world out of the water. Songmi’s jaw drops and Yixing feels like he might faint. He has to grab onto her hand to ground himself. 

“You’re kidding,” Songmi says and bursts into laughter, but Jongdae’s facial expression doesn’t change. There’s no mischief shining in his eyes anymore. He’s dead serious, and Songmi’s giggles fade. “You’re...not kidding?”

“Nope,” Jongdae says, and now he’s smiling. “Congratulations.”

“We can’t be,” Yixing tries to argue, but his voice falters in the knowledge that Jongdae is the obstetrician around here, not him. Jongdae unfreezes the image on the ultrasound machine and moves the probe around again. 

“There are definitely two in there. Two little boys, it seems.” Jongdae’s smile grows wider and Yixing pales even more as Songmi shakes her head. 

“Are you sure? I mean, there has only been one in there for the last three months. How does a twin just suddenly appear?” she says and reaches over to pat Yixing’s cheek to bring a little colour back in it. Yixing is still stuck on the idea that they’re having two boys. Two boys! He remembers their playful fight about the baby’s gender and realises that Songmi was doubly right.

“Well, one of them must have been hiding behind the other. I’m not a magician, but there are definitely two babies. Look, I’ll show you.” 

He pulls the screen towards them and finds a spot on her stomach where he freezes the picture and puts the probe down. He points with a finger and circles one grey blob. “That’s baby A,” he says and then circles another grey blob right next to it. “And that’s baby B.”

Yixing stares at the picture. There are two identical grey blobs, just like Jongdae pointed out. He gets eye contact with Songmi and she shakes her head, smiling like she’s never been happier. 

“We’re having twins,” she whispers and Jongdae confirms it again. Yixing leans over the bed so he can rest his forehead on hers. He doesn’t know what to say. His entire vocabulary seems to have gone with this new knowledge. She pulls away from him to look at Jongdae. Yixing follows her gaze and sends the obstetrician a dazed smile. 

“Are they healthy?” he asks and Jongdae nods. He puts the probe back on her stomach and presses a few buttons and the sound of two rhythmic heartbeats ring out in the room. Yixing watches Songmi’s stomach with fascination and she looks at him. Their heartbeats sound so strong and it solidifies the moment, that this is real, these are their sons. Yixing swallows when his throat tightens and he doesn’t realise he’s crying until Songmi reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“Why are you crying, love?” she asks and Yixing sniffles. For all the things they went through in spring, for all the time he thought the universe was against him, against his happiness and his small family, he’s now getting two sons who are perfectly healthy and developing exactly as they’re supposed to.

“I’m just so happy,” he admits. Songmi wraps her arms around him and Yixing buries his head in her shoulder and lets her hold him tight. They will get their small family after all. 

### \---

“Good morning, babies,” the librarian singsongs, making the life-sized baby doll she’s holding in her lap wave its plastic arm. All around Joonmyun, the circle of fifteen or so parents hold the arm of the real babies in their laps and make them wave back. Joonmyun takes Yejoon’s chubby wrist and does the same.

“And good morning, mommies,” the librarian sings again, this time waving her baby doll’s other arm. Joonmyun assumes that he’s included in the term “mommies” for this purpose, so he waves Yejoon’s other wrist. It’s true that every other parent in the circle of chairs set up in the local library’s brightly coloured children’s area is a mommy. He supposes it’s rare to see a daddy at these things, since they’re held on weekday mornings and most mothers with babies under the age of 12 months tend to be at home with them. It’s stupid to feel awkward about being the only male here, stupid to feel like he’s out of place and unwelcome just over a little thing like the librarian's practiced greeting, but Joonmyun’s anxiety has never been sensible and it’s not about to start now. He focuses on Yejoon’s silky mop of black hair, still smelling of baby shampoo from his bath last night, and bounces his knees gently in time to the happy music that comes on so that Yejoon bumps up and down. Babies all around the circle giggle and squeal, and he’s surrounded in the heartwarming sound of happy, interested babies. The young mother next to him catches his eye and sends him a smile, and Joonmyun smiles back at her, even just this little acceptance, this acknowledgement of being valid here soothing his anxiety a little. It’s the first time he’s taken Yejoon to Babytimes, a weekly music and stimulation session held for free at the local library, but Yejin has brought him many times before. Today, though, his wife is relief teaching at the local primary school, and Joonmyun is off work, so he’s in charge of Yejoon for the day. He has a night shift starting at 7pm, so they’ll be able to have dinner together later before he heads in to the hospital.

He thinks he’s been doing pretty well with Yejoon lately, with the whole anxious parent thing. His son is now 8 and a half months old and has been wonderfully healthy so far, only picking up one sniffle about a month ago that resolved easily. He knows they’ve been amazingly lucky that their first baby is so easy. Yejoon sleeps as well as he ever did, rarely cries, and he’s bright and interested in life around him. His vocabulary seems to increase every day, and he crawls like a fiend. He hasn’t started trying to pull himself up to stand up yet, but Joonmyun knows that can happen anywhere from around 8 to 10 months, so he doesn’t need to worry about that yet. He’s gotten pretty expert at bathing, changing, dressing, feeding, and all the other things involved with taking care of the wonderful little human being now chortling in his lap. The incident with the pearl was an aberration, and he tries not to dwell on it. Logically he knows his own mind is making far more of that situation than he needs to, but he thinks he’ll be grateful to Park Chanyeol for saving his bacon that day for the rest of his life.

The welcome song ends, and the librarian gets up to pass out a box of small, sparkling squares of fabric in many colours to all the parents. There’s a chorus of “oohs” from the mothers as they wave the fabric squares in front of the babies. Joonmyun accepts his pink sparkly square and dangles it in front of Yejoon, shifting it away just in time when his son makes a grab for it. He’s getting crazy fast with the grabbing reflex, and Joonmyun laughs aloud with sheer affection. He loves having the weight of his son on his knees, loves feeling his warm, wriggling body and hearing his happy chuckles. He feels full to bursting with love.

The song the librarian plays when she’s back in her chair at the head of the circle involves a lot of waving the sparkly scarves around, and Joonmyun follows her demonstration carefully. Then there’s a song about washing dirty clothes, during which they pretend to wash the babies, and then a version of the hokey-cokey, where they lift their baby’s arms and legs to the song lyrics rather than putting their own limbs “in and out”. The last verse involves lifting the baby up and down above their heads, and Yejoon shrieks with joy as Joonmyun swoops him above his head. There’s a couple more songs with actions to put the babies through, and after that a hand-held bubble machine appears, and the librarian shoots bubbles everywhere while a twinkly song tune plays around them. Joonmyun laughs at Yejoon’s wide-eyed look of awe as the pretty bubbles float around them. He wishes he could get this on camera, but he’s got his hands full holding onto Yejoon, who keeps lunging for the bubbles with absolutely no regard for the fact that he’d go plummeting off his father’s knees if he wasn’t being held back. 

“Your little boy is very lively, isn’t he?” the mother to his left says. Joonmyun nods, laughing a little. 

“He’s full of energy. I can’t imagine what he’ll be like when he starts walking.”

“My older girl was like that,” the mother says. “She’s in kindergarten now, thank goodness, and this one is much quieter.” She kisses her baby’s head, a second daughter if the pink flowery dungarees are anything to go by. 

“I just have the one,” Joonmyun says. “I don’t know how people manage with two.” It’s something he’s expressed before, but somehow it keeps coming back into his mouth. He doesn’t know why he keeps on talking about it, why the idea won’t leave him alone. He’s already determined that one baby is quite enough. But all the same, he finds himself listening carefully as the young mother chatters to him about the pros and cons of having two children, filing the information away in his brain.

The session is drawn to a close with the end of the bubble song, the librarian collecting up the sparkly fabric squares again and playing a goodbye song that just sings the word goodbye over and over again, but in at least twelve different languages. Joonmyun entertains himself identifying the languages, recognizing Mandarin, Japanese, English, French and Spanish before the more obscure ones escape him.

There’s blankets and cushions set up on the floor in the middle of the circle of chairs, with some age-appropriate toys laid out, and about half of the mothers put their babies down to play on the blankets while they start to chat to each other, the rest getting up to leave. Yejoon is fighting to go play, so Joonmyun kneels on the rug to put him down, watching him crawl off at rapid speed, making a beeline for a brightly-coloured activity cube. He twitches a little with the urge to grab the disinfectant wipes from the baby bag he’s left hanging over the back of the chair and clean the thing thoroughly before Yejoon gets his hands on it, but he knows that’s being overprotective. Yejoon’s immune system is strong and will be stronger if he’s exposed to a normal level of germs.

He crosses his legs where he’s sitting on the edge of the rug and keeps his eyes on Yejoon. All the mothers seem to know each other, or if they don’t they’re very open and friendly, bonding over their shared motherhood as they chat and laugh, and Joonmyun again finds himself feeling out of place, like he’s in primary school again and nobody wants to play with him, or in high school when his social anxiety had gotten so bad he’d barely said a word in public for three years and everyone had thought he was super weird. He’s gotten much better over his adulthood, but the slight awkwardness, the second-guessing that makes him hesitant just before he speaks, the fear that what he says is going to be weird or stupid, has never truly left him.

“Excuse me,” a friendly voice says to his left, and he glances away from Yejoon to see the young woman who’d talked to him before coming down to sit on the rug beside him, her daughter sucking her thumb quietly in her lap. “This might sound strange, but the more I look at you the more I can’t help wondering if you are Kim Joonmyun, the surgeon?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Joonmyun says, smiling politely as he wonders how the woman knows him. He doesn’t recognize her at all, but it’s possible she’s been a patient he only saw briefly, or a family member of a patient. Often patients remember their doctors very strongly, even if Joonmyun only met them once. “I’m terribly sorry, but have we met before?” he asks, praying that she’s not someone he ought to know and that he’s not going to offend her. 

“Oh, no,” the young woman says, shaking her head. “I saw your reaction video on YouTube the other day. It was really interesting, I loved it!”

Joonmyun’s mouth falls open a little. He’d almost completely forgotten about his cousin’s video. Dongyoung had posted it about three weeks ago and messaged him to tell him so, but it’s half an hour long and Joonmyun simply hasn’t had the time to watch it yet. Yejin had watched it the day it came out and had then spent the entire evening teasing him mercilessly about how adorable he was getting so enthusiastic about heart rate rhythms and shocked by sex in the residents dorm, so Joonmyun isn’t sure he even wants to watch it now. He’ll probably just writhe with embarrassment.

“Oh, that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “That was nothing, but I’m glad you liked it.”

The young mother denies this vehemently, going on to tell him how interesting it was to find out about real medical procedures and then how much she loves Dongyoung’s other videos, which makes Joonmyun feel guilty that he hasn’t watched any of his cousin’s videos. Between being a highly in-demand cardiothoracic surgeon and his family, he really doesn’t have spare time to watch YouTube, but now he feels bad that this stranger seems to know more about his young cousin than Joonmyun himself does. 

“Are you going to do more reactions?” the young woman asks him when she winds down. “I love that drama, and there’s a few more episodes out now, you could do another one!”

“That’s up to Dongyoung,” Joonmyun says. “But if he wants to do another reaction, I’d be happy to help him out.”

“I hope he does,” the young mother says. “I’ll comment on the video and tell him so. Wow, this is so cool. I’ve never met a celebrity before.”

“I’m not a celebrity,” Joonmyun says awkwardly. “Not at all. I’m just a regular doctor.”

“Well, you’re YouTube famous, anyway,” she tells him, grinning, and Joonmyun laughs vaguely in place of not knowing what to say, shooting a quick glance at Yejoon to keep track of him. He’d never expected to be recognized like this. How many people could really watch that one video, after all? It must just be a weird fluke.

Trying to get the conversation off himself, he finds out the young mother’s name - Choi Jinrae - and asks her what she does, and they have a much less stressful conversation about what she’d studied at university. Jinrae’s husband is a firefighter, and they fall into an interesting discussion of his work, how it affects her having a husband liable to be called away at any moment, and cases Joonmyun has come across where firefighters were involved, which are usually vehicle accident extractions when it comes to cardiothoracic surgery. The conversation is only interrupted by Joonmyun’s phone going off loudly in his pocket. He apologizes as he takes it out, not wanting to be rude, but he always has to check calls because it could be the hospital. He’s not on call today, but if there’s a life-or-death situation and there are no other surgeons available, he can still be called in.

It is the hospital, he sees with a glance at the screen, and when he picks up he’s told of an immediately life-threatening injury in a young woman. Joonmyun snaps immediately into the brisk efficiency of emergency mode.

“I’m so sorry, that’s the hospital. I have to go,” he says to his new friend, already scrambling to his feet. Jinrae nods her understanding.

“I come to Babytimes every week, maybe I’ll see you again soon,” she says, and Joonmyun nods distractedly as he scoops up Yejoon and hurries through the library towards the doors. The library is only ten minutes from the hospital, but he still doesn’t have time to dawdle. It’s not until he’s strapping Yejoon into the baby seat that he realises his son is still clutching the activity cube which belongs to the library. He groans aloud, but he doesn’t have time to go and give it back. He’ll have to make sure either he or Yejin brings it back as soon as possible, along with apologies for accidentally stealing library property.

He calls Yejin as he drives, leaving a message on her voicemail that he’s been called in and that she’ll need to collect Yejoon from the 24-hour hospital creche. They’ve discussed this before in case of this very situation, though they haven’t needed to put the plan into action before, as being called in when he’s not even on call is pretty rare. It’s the first time Joonmyun will have left Yejoon in the hospital creche, and although he knows the staff there are excellent and that many of his colleagues leave their children there all the time, he can’t help the anxiety that rises up in him as he signs Yejoon in. In any other situation he’d probably have ended up hanging around for at least an hour to make sure Yejoon was okay in the new environment, but he simply doesn’t have time to pander to his anxiety today. 

When he hands Yejoon over to the creche staff, his son starts crying and reaching for him, and Joonmyun’s heart feels like it’s tearing in two. He wants so desperately to take his son back into his arms, and he feels like he’s the worst parent ever as he forces himself to back away. His mind races, telling him that he’s surely giving his son abandonment issues and scarring him for life. The creche staff member reads his distress and gives him a reassuring smile over Yejoon’s screwed-up, wailing face.

“He’ll be fine in a minute, they all are. This is very normal. Go, Dr. Kim,” she tells him, and Joonmyun is forced to harden his heart and leave his crying son behind. He has to blink moisture from his eyes as he hurries towards the emergency department, but he must put Yejoon out of his mind. His son, however distressed he may be, is not in life-threatening danger, and his patient is.

When he gets to the ED he’s told that the patient is still 15 minutes out, so he has time to run up to his office on the cardiology floor and change at top speed into his navy blue scrubs, saving his nice slacks and shirt from being ruined by blood, as they'd undoubtedly be if he was forced to assess a trauma patient in them. He mentally runs through the information the paramedics en-route have passed on as he changes. A car has veered off a rural road at speed, shattering a wooden fence. A sharp shard of wood the length of a spear had gone through the windscreen and transfixed the driver’s neck. Firefighters have extricated her from the wreck, but she’s blowing air from the wound and is having difficulty breathing. Her blood pressure is low, so they suspect internal bleeding.

Joonmyun is a master of the quick change thanks to years of such situations, and he still has ten minutes before the ambulance is due to arrive as he heads back down the corridor towards the elevators. He’s almost there when a slightly taller man in regular clothes under his white doctor’s coat drifts out from the reception area into the corridor and almost walks straight into Joonmyun. Joonmyun is forced to a sudden halt to avoid collision, and when he glances into the other doctor’s face he’s startled to see that it’s Yixing. The oncologist looks strangely dazed, almost lost, and he has no reason Joonmyun can think of for being on the cardiology floor. All Joonmyun’s internal alarm bells start ringing, and he catches Yixing’s arm, stopping him from wandering off. He’s seen Yixing acting spacey before and has passed it off as just Yixing’s personality, but something about this is alarming. He knows he needs to get down to the ED asap, but he has a few minutes yet before he’s needed.

“Where are you heading?” he asks, keeping his tone casual. It seems to take Yixing a second to process the question, and then he just points to the ceiling, which Joonmyun supposes means the oncology department a couple of floors above. His eyes are distant and seem to be looking through Joonmyun rather than at him, and Joonmyun’s concern steps up a level.

“You seem out of it,” he comments. Yixing blinks, then sends him a gentle smile.

“I haven’t had lunch yet,” he says. Joonmyun frowns, but he supposes it’s an acceptable explanation for being spaced out. All the same, he finds himself no less concerned as he lets Yixing go and watches him head into the stairwell. It’s not the first time he’s come across Yixing acting worryingly out of it, and he remembers their conversation in the cafeteria a few weeks back, when Yixing had expressed to him his difficulty in handling the many patient deaths that happen in his specialty. Is Yixing still struggling? Joonmyun wants to go after him, wants to sit him down for lunch and make sure his friend is okay, but he can’t do that any more than he could stay and calm Yejoon in the creche. He has a patient with a life-threatening injury who needs him.

He stabs the button to the staff elevator, glad that it’s only a few floors away and will get him back to the ED with minutes to spare before the ambulance arrives. It’s not the first time he’s felt conflicted that his job forces him to prioritize strangers over his family and friends, but today it’s been rammed into him twice in quick succession. He wouldn’t change his career, because he’s saved many lives, made a difference to thousands of people, and that is something irreplaceable - but at the same time, he wonders where the balance lies, and if he’s hitting it. Today it was only a library play session with Yejoon, a skipped lunch with Yixing, but what happens when it’s something more important, like a birthday party or graduation ceremony, a friend in a real crisis? Joonmyun will still have to put his patients first. He can’t let a person die.

It’s not the time to be pondering his personal ethics, though, as he presents himself in the ED. He introduces himself to the trauma team already waiting in the resuscitation area and puts everything else out of his mind as he gets the latest updates passed on from the paramedics. The extrication from the car has taken some time, delaying the patient’s arrival, and the information he receives has warning lights flashing in his brain. It sounds as if the woman’s windpipe has been cut in two. If that’s the case, then blind attempts to pass a breathing tube through could push the ends apart and completely obstruct her airway. He’ll need an experienced cardiothoracic anaesthetist to join them, and the cardiac operating theatre team to stand by. 

He finds out that Dr. Bae Sungyeon, a cardiac anaesthesiologist he’s worked with many times, is on call, and he calls her himself, asking her to come at top speed, which she promises to do. As they wait for the ambulance, Joonmyun politely asks the resuscitation team to hold fire until he’s had the chance to examine the patient. It’s already been more than an hour since the crash due to the rural location and the extrication difficulty, and if she’s still alive it means that she’s reached some degree of stability and the couple of minutes he’ll need to work out her injuries aren’t likely to put her in any more danger than she’s already in. Sometimes resuscitation efforts can actually harm the patient more if they don’t know what they’re dealing with.

Tension rises palpably as the woman is wheeled in. She’s awake but deathly pale, rigid with fear and her lips blue. Joonmyun’s eyes are immediately drawn to the gash in the root of her neck on the right side, where bare sternomastoid muscle is exposed, while air flutters the torn skin as she exhales. A loud, wet, bubbling sound comes from the neck wound with every breath, simultaneously spraying out a fine aerosol of blood. Joonmyun is in no doubt about the cause. Equally, he’s amazed that the transfixion hasn’t ripped out at least one of her two carotid arteries. If it had, she’d have died at the scene.

The woman gets eye contact with him and feebly raises her right arm. Joonmyun takes her sweaty hand immediately, wanting to connect with her and reassure her. They’ll be spending the next however many hours in the operating room together. 

“I’m Dr. Kim Joonmyun, a cardiothoracic surgeon. I’m going to look after you now, so don’t worry. You’re going to be fine,” he tells her. He doesn’t know she’ll be fine, but she could use some comfort, to be treated like a person and not an object of curiosity. He’d have to be more honest about her chances with family members, but to the patient herself, reassurance is the most important. If she’s not fine, she won’t know it in the end.

She squeezes his hand weakly. She’s in shock, not just mental distress, and has clearly lost litres of blood internally. Joonmyun guesses the stake has passed downwards through her neck and into the left side of her chest, taking out a significant blood vessel. He uses his stethoscope to check her breathing. Air is filling her right lung, but there’s no sound of breathing on the left. When he taps her ribs, her left chest is dull to percussion, a physical sign of fluid surrounding the lung. He doesn’t need to waste time on imaging to tell him that she has blood in her chest. Her blood pressure is so low it’s barely recordable, and her heart rate is a rapid 110 beats per minute.

He knows immediately that this surgery is going to be tricky. A severe injury to the root of the neck together with bleeding into the left chest, a dangerous combination. Yet the basic principles, the “ABC’s”, remain the same. First establish a safe and reliable airway. Next take control of the breathing. Then support circulation, in this case by stopping the bleeding and giving her a blood transfusion.

Joonmyun needs Dr. Bae to put her to sleep. The only reliable way to secure her airway in this case is with a rigid bronchoscope - a long, narrow brass tube with a light at the end used for many things, from investigating lung cancer to removing inhaled peanuts from children.

By now the resus team has put a couple of IV lines into the woman’s arms and are giving her clear fluids. Joonmyun doesn’t want too much of that. She’s critical but stable, and in this condition the blood pressure drops and a blood clot plugs the injury. Clear fluid pushes the pressure up and makes the patient bleed again, so in this case, her critically low blood pressure is actually more helpful than harmful, even though the numbers themselves would be looking better if they got her pressure up. He tells the resus team to stop one of the IVs, leaving just the second feeding in a slow drip of fluids. They can replace her fluids more aggressively when they’ve found and dealt with her internal bleed.

Dr. Bae arrives, and after a quick conference they agree to take her up to the surgical suite before attempting the intubation. There they will have complete control, surrounded by the cardiac surgery team, away from the circus of the emergency department. 

When they get to the anaesthetic room a nurse has the bronchoscope ready and waiting, but first Dr. Bae needs to anaesthetise and paralyse her. Once that's done, Joonmyun slips the scope down the back of her throat, through her vocal cords and into the injured trachea. High-pressure ventilation through the scope sprays blood out of her neck, splattering everyone with blood, but soon Joonmyun can see the injury. Two-thirds of the circumference of her trachea has been lacerated, leaving only the muscular back wall intact. He’s never seen such a bad tracheal injury on a patient who is still alive, but the principles are still the same, and he knows what to do as he proceeds.

He pushes a long measuring probe down the bronchoscope and through the site of injury. After vigorously blowing in air to raise her oxygen levels, the bronchoscope is withdrawn, leaving the probe in place. Dr. Bae then railroads her breathing tube safely over the probe as a guide, and they have their patient successfully intubated. “A” for airway and “B” for breathing are sorted, so now Joonmyun has to get onto “C” for circulation and stop the life-threatening bleeding into her chest. For that, he’s going to need to do a thoracotomy, open her chest up and figure out what it is that’s filling her left chest with blood.

They wheel the patient through into the operating room and turn her left side up. The third-year cardiology resident, Im Sera, is already scrubbed in and ready to assist him, and the thoracotomy instruments are laid out on a sterile drape. Joonmyun doesn’t have to say a word. It all just happens around him like clockwork. Dr. Bae is ready with two units of donor blood and now has arterial blood pressure monitoring on the screen via a cannula in the wrist. 

A range of thoughts go through Joonmyun’s mind at the scrub sink. First, he’s relieved for the poor woman that she’s unconscious and far distant from her terrifying ordeal. Then, he’s apprehensive. What will he find in the apex of the chest? He fears laceration of the large subclavian artery to her arm, although she still has a pulse at the left wrist. Hopefully it’s just low pressure venous bleeding, which will be much easier to control. He’s also aware that the nerves to the arm are close by and he needs to avoid damaging them with the electrocautery. 

When he opens her up, a good two litres of blood spills out of her chest, splashing over his scrub pants and rubber clogs and onto the floor. Joonmyun watches her left lung expand like a kid’s balloon now that the compression of all that blood is gone. It’s a lovely pink, not like the mottled grey lungs he sees in smokers. He and the team scoop and suction blood from the depths of her chest until the ragged hole comes into view. Thankfully there is no brisk, bright red arterial haemorrhage, just dark red bleeding from the main arm vein. Joonmyun sets about stopping the bleeding. If he ties off the vein her arm will swell, so he repairs it with a patch from a less important vein to preserve the flow.

When that’s done, they wash the chest cavity out with antiseptic solution. All the other main arteries and nerves are clearly visible in the roof of her chest. The fence post had simply pushed them aside, generously limiting its destruction to the least important structures. The luck of this woman is barely believable.

With the arm vein patched, “C” for circulation is now sorted, and they’re left with one other major injury to sort out - the transected windpipe. They close up her chest, leaving a drain to remove residual air and blood, and Joonmyun injects a generous amount of long-acting anaesthetic into the nerves under the ribs to dull her pain when she wakes up. This poor woman has suffered enough.

They roll her onto her back ready to explore the neck wound. The terrible gash, just above the joint between the sternum and clavicle, is 8 centimetres long and gapes widely, like grinning lips exposing teeth. Her lacerated trachea is right in front of him, with the thyroid gland above and the rigid plastic breathing tube visible through the wound. With the benefit of full resuscitation and her blood pressure rising, the wound edges are now leaking bright red blood. This will be easy enough to stop, but the rural fence post that caused this injury was undoubtedly covered in bacteria, so Joonmyun excises the contaminated edges of the trachea with a scalpel first, then joins the clean edges with multiple separate sutures.

It’s been an intimidating problem, but the surgery itself couldn’t have gone better. They’ve managed a solid, airtight repair, and Joonmyun finishes off by checking the nerves to the vocal cords. Again these have been spared the worst-case scenario. A guardian angel must have been with her in the car. Or sitting on Joonmyun’s shoulder in the operating room. Perhaps both.

He tells Sera to give her a shot of heavy-duty antibiotics for good measure, and then they close the skin and subcutaneous layers with metal surgical staples.

“Well done,” Joonmyun tells his team, and gets a round of smiles above surgical masks in return. Together, they’ve saved a life today. 

The family are huddled anxiously in the intensive care unit family area. They’d come in through the emergency department, been given a good dose of pessimism about her chances, then been dispatched up here for the long wait. Joonmyun’s been lucky enough to have never been in this situation personally, but he can strongly empathize with how they must feel. Waiting to be told the outcome of emergency surgery is a truly miserable experience, and they’ve been told their own kid has had a fence post nearly take her head off. Alive or dead? Disabled or intact? Disfigured or still beautiful? Joonmyun rarely sees people able to focus on the TV screen in the corner that’s always playing the sports channel.

He tells the family what he’d told the young woman as he’d held her hand while her life ebbed away - that everything is going to be fine. He watches as they collapse into each other, crying with relief. They don’t thank him, but Joonmyun doesn’t mind at all. He knows they’re overwhelmed, and he was just doing his job. He’s grateful that he was able to help her. Not all traumatic injuries end so well, and these could have been tears of grief instead of joy, and Joonmyun could have been having to bottle up his own distress while he delivers the news that would break their hearts.

But not today. Today is a success, and Joonmyun takes his leave to go change out of his scrubs and shower. The surgery has taken most of the afternoon, and like Yixing earlier, he’s managed to miss lunch, and now that he’s out of the intense focus of the surgery, his stomach begins demanding food in no uncertain tones. It’s nearly 5.30 so there’s little point in going home before he starts his night shift at 7, so he first goes to shower and change into a set of clean scrubs, then calls Yejin as he heads down to the cafeteria.

“Hello, darling,” Yejin answers when she picks up, and Joonmyun smiles at the sound of her voice even though she can’t see him. “You’re out of surgery? How did it go?”

“Well,” Joonmyun says. “A tricky injury, but she’s going to be fine.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Yejin says. “I’m about five minutes away from the hospital to collect Yejoon. I thought I’d be earlier, but the traffic is appalling.”

Joonmyun’s heart lifts. He’d assumed Yejin would have already been and gone, and that he’d miss out on the family dinner they’d expected to have this evening, but maybe things are going to work out after all. 

“I’m heading down to the cafeteria, I had to skip lunch,” he says. “Shall we eat here together?”

“Oh, that would be lovely, then I don’t have to miss you,” Yejin says happily, and so Joonmyun tells her that he’ll meet her at the creche. When he gets there, he finds the same staff member he’d left Yejoon with earlier, and she smiles as she recognizes him.

“Yejoonie calmed down about two minutes after you left,” she tells him. “He’s had a great time, and he napped from around two to four. Want to come in and get him?”

Joonmyun agrees, going through into the warm, softly padded creche area, where he finds Yejoon pushing wooden beads along the twisty coloured wires of a baby maze and giggling as they clatter up and down the slopes. Yejoon sees him coming and squeals, raising his arms to be lifted as his chubby face breaks into a gorgeous smile, and Joonmyun tears up as much as he had when he’d left him here earlier. Yejoon knows him, is so happy to see him, and it’s just so wonderful to be loved and to love this little human being. He picks Yejoon up with a swoop and kisses him, and when he turns around to carry him out, Yejin is waiting, a fond smile on her face. Joonmyun steps over to kiss her too, not even caring that they’re in semi-public and the creche staff are around.

“How are my gorgeous boys?” Yejin asks, giving Yejoon a kiss too.

“Hungry,” Joonmyun answers fervently, and Yejoon laughs.

“We better do something about that, then,” she says, and Joonmyun gets Yejoon on his hip so that he can hold Yejin’s hand as they walk towards the cafeteria.


End file.
